


like birds' wings

by karikes



Series: an unbroken series of successful gestures [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Autistic Uhura, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karikes/pseuds/karikes
Summary: Nyota likes the uniformity of math and the endless formations of sounds that make up languages. She likes the smell of her nephew’s hair and the burn of her muscles after her morning run. She likes the soft feeling of his knee next to hers and the knowledge of happiness his hands hold when they brush her own.In which Nyota Uhura is autistic and meets Spock, the first person besides her sister whose touch she never minds.“When she saw him face to face their eyes met and brushed like birds’ wings. After that everything was all right, everything was wonderful, she knew that he was beginning to fall in love with her.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night





	1. strange children

Nyota Uhura has always known what she wants, even when she is three years old and squatting in the dust outside of her home on the outskirts of Mombasa. She wants to watch the dung beetles roll their homes with their back legs across her backyard. She does not want to acknowledge the setting sun, or what the steps of her mother behind her mean. She hates bedtime, hates the fact that her mother treats her so tenderly and touches her too often for her to be comfortable. She is glad her mother did not warn her it’s bath night, which means she can watch the beetles later and not have the soft pain of her mother’s hands on her.

Marjani Uhura is worried about her daughter. Nyota doesn’t play like her older sisters did. She just watches. Her favorite pastime is currently watching insects. Marjani is grateful that her daughter doesn’t touch them, just intently notes their every movement. There is an ache in her chest, and she knows something is missing in Nyota. She loves her youngest so much, but her behavior is atypical for three year-old girls, Marjani knows.

If Kibwe gets that promotion at the plant, she’ll take Nyota to a clinic in Nairobi and see what can be done, if her daughter needs help. Her work from home allows her to spend a significant amount of time with her daughter, so she is thankful, but a part of her is worried that she doesn’t have to worry about Nyota being alone in the next room. She tells Kibwe, after the struggle to get Nyota in bed, in low tones so Sanaa and Eshe cannot hear. He has noticed Nyota’s behavior too, how she uses her many words only to talk of insects and their patterns.

He holds his wife’s hands as she cries into his shoulder. “I know, _mpenzi wangu_.”

Kibwe doesn’t get the promotion. Marjani just nods tiredly at him and wraps up dinner’s leftovers for her older daughters’ lunches the next day.

⋘⋙

Marjani watches her daughter rise in height, features elongating and seriousness not departing.

At the age of four, Nyota absconds with her mother’s padd and teaches herself to read Standard.

At five, her interest shifts from bugs to the sky, and she spends hours watching clouds and looking at holovids of storms.

Marjani worries about school that is fast approaching. The other children will treat her daughter with disdain and cruelty, she is sure. Kibwe applies for a job in Nairobi again when Nyota is five and a half, partly because they would both prefer to live a little more comfortably, and partly because Marjani is sure Nyota will be afforded some peace in the more diverse atmosphere.

Eshe is twelve, and protests more violently than Sanaa, who is in her junior year. Sanaa knows that being in a new school for her senior year is not going to be a pleasant experience, that she will see her friends on holoscreens for the next little while. She listens though, and watches her baby sister and the way her mother watches her not play so worriedly. She wants to ditch her boyfriend anyways. He’s starting to be a drag and she's not even sure she's attracted to him. So Sanaa nods and says, “I have no complaints,” while Eshe starts listing her twelve hundred reasons why her parents are ruining her life.

Nyota looks up at her parents solemnly when they inform her they’re moving to a big city so she can go to a good school. “School is important,” she says, her fingers tracing the edge of her mother’s padd. “Will there be better clouds in the city? Will pollution distort the moisture enough to give completely new formations?”

Kibwe glances at his wife, and the look in her eyes is filled with uncertainty. Five and a half year olds do not know how to read Standard and they do not know words like distort or form scientific observations. Maybe she’s just really smart. But even smart kids have dolls or starships that they play with and make noises that they imagine these toys make. Nyota’s noises are keening at being touched, shrieks of happiness at a particularly nice sunset, and silence except for when she talks about clouds. Normal kid movements are wiggling and running and jumping.

Nyota does not do these things, but some small part of her is always moving. Sometimes her hand twists at her side, sometimes she flaps both arms wildly. She bites her lip and grinds her teeth; grabs at her favorite blanket and rubs it between her thumb and forefinger. Nyota twirls her soft curls around her finger, taps styluses against the edges of padds, runs her fingers along walls. She does not like the dog her parents bribe Eshe with when they move. She refuses to touch the newly-christened Ruby and screams when it tries to lick her hand. Eshe rolls her eyes and complains to Marjani that Nyota’s being a baby again.

⋘⋙

Marjani takes her to a clinic in Nairobi a week after they settle into their new home. Nyota hates the change and doesn’t want to be here today, but she doesn’t complain because Marjani promised to buy her a dress with clouds on it if she was good today and didn’t ask questions.

“Cumulonimbus or cirrostratus, I think,” she had said when Mummy had told her about the dress. Mummy’s brow had furrowed and she had nodded before checking that Nyota’s boots were on the right feet.

Now she taps her finger on the arm of the chair in the waiting room and watches patients’ names be called. She’s interested in the special padds the nurses carry, but doesn’t ask Mummy. She wants that dress.

She knows it’s been twenty-three minutes when the Andorian nurse who has called patients twice already says, “Nyota Uhura,” and waits for the door to hiss shut behind her and her mother before starting to walk. They walk twelve steps before they sit down again, in a smaller white room.

A doctor comes in, human, but from Japan probably, Nyota thinks, staring intently at her cheekbones and the jet of her hair.

“You must be Dr. Noel,” Mummy says, standing and shaking the doctor’s hand. “I called about Nyota and her development. I just think something’s off with her and I want to know if she needs help of some kind, or if there’s anything I can do for her.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Uhura. And this must be Nyota,” Dr. Noel says, squatting down to look in Nyota’s face.

Nyota looks at her eyebrows and says, “Hello,” like she is supposed to.

The doctor unfolds herself and sits at the desk, opening a window on the holoscreen.

“It would be helpful for me if you could talk about specifics, Mrs. Uhura.”

Nyota listens while her mother talks. She does not say a word, just watches her mother’s hands and the doctor’s listening face as she types line after line of text. Nyota can’t read backwards yet, but she knows what Mummy is saying. She feels wrong and funny inside after Mummy keeps saying, “My older girls never did that when I touched them,” and “That’s not what Sanaa or Eshe did.”

She wishes she was wearing her cloud dress and that she was outside, watching the exceptionally nice cumulus clouds today.

Dr. Noel smiles at Nyota when Mummy finally finishes her list of reasons why Nyota wants to crawl under her favorite blanket and never leave. The doctor’s eyes crinkle when she smiles, and it’s the only nice thing that’s happened in the forty-seven minutes she’s sat here.

“Nyota, can I ask you a few questions?”

“You just asked me one,” she says, and looks at her boots. There’s a scuff mark on the toe of her left boot, and she doesn’t know how it got there. If it was Ruby, she’s going to take something of Eshe’s and hide it.

“Yes, I suppose I did. But I would like to know a few things from you, and not your mother, alright?” Dr. Noel’s voice is warm, but Nyota still wants her blanket.

“Only if Mummy gets my blanket from the car,” she whispers and twirls her right pigtail tightly around her index finger.

Mummy sighs and stands up, knowing that Nyota will not budge until her blanket is in her hand.

“Will you be alright for a few minutes with Dr. Noel?”

“Yes,” Nyota says. She knows if she says no, Mummy will not be happy, and she wants her cloud dress.

Nyota taps her fingernails on the arm of the chair again. Dr. Noel opens the door for the Andorian nurse briefly and says something Nyota can’t hear. Then she goes back to typing, and Nyota is glad the doctor doesn’t try to talk to her without the comfort of her blanket.

Mummy gets back with her blanket, the soft navy patterned with stars that her daughter has clung to since she was two. Nyota grabs it and rests it against her cheek.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll answer your questions now.”

“What is your favorite word?”

“Cumulonimbus. Why?”

Dr. Noel ignores her question. “What does cumulonimbus mean,” she asks, her voice still warm and soft.

Nyota sighs and launches into a lengthy description of the water density over varying altitudes resulting in the purple-bellied rain clouds. Dr. Noel listens intently while Mummy twists her wedding ring like she always does when she’s worried.

There are more questions, about what it feels like when hands touch her, and good feelings she likes. There are questions about her favorite books, the tapping and touching, and also about people’s faces. They’re weird questions, and Nyota is tired. She wants dinner and her bed, which is a different bed now that they’re in Nairobi. She isn’t going to sleep well for at least three weeks, she knows it. She strokes the constellations on her blanket and tells Dr. Noel that she’s done now, after answering sixty-two questions.

“Thank you for your time, Nyota Uhura. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Dr. Noel says, and then turns to Mummy. “I’ll send you an official document, but I can tell you with little doubt in my mind your daughter is on the autism spectrum. We can schedule a date for formal testing. If she were older, I’d do it right now, but I think today was enough. I don’t want to put unnecessary strain on Nyota. She’s so young and sensitive that I think it’s unwise.”

“You have a great future ahead of you, Nyota. Use your brain wisely,” she says, and Nyota nods, her eyes sliding to the grey tiles of the floor.

She doesn’t know what autism means, and Mummy won’t say anything when they drive to the biggest store she has ever been to. An Andorian sales person helps them find a dress with clouds on it, bright fluffy cumulus clouds and she wanted cirrostratus, but Mummy has that pinched look around her mouth and eyes, so she nods after feeling the fabric. She asks the Andorian how to say hello in his language, and she giggles at the strangely music sound.

“Thank you,” she tells him, and imitates the word nearly perfectly. He smiles at her, antennae waving slightly, and Mummy turns to walk away.

Nyota puts on her dress the moment she gets home and climbs in bed with her blanket. She’s hungry, but too tired to listen to Mummy and Baba and Eshe and Sanaa talk.

Kibwe kisses her forehead and smoothes her blanket when he comes home from work. She shifts a little in her sleep at the touch, but doesn’t wake. Marjani told him over dinner and made sure the girls knew that Nyota was different, with a medical stamp on it now. Dr. Noel had recommended patience and a school that they would have to scrape to afford even with his new salary, but the doctor had said the intercultural experience would be good for someone who would struggle in social situations like Nyota. She was their baby girl after all, even if she sometimes drove them insane with all those holovids of clouds.

⋘⋙

Nyota gets tested officially fourteen days before school is supposed to start, on the day before her sixth birthday. Mummy promises her her own padd for school, instead of borrowing Eshe’s old one. The long hours of staring at a holoscreen for the test don’t make Nyota tired. It’s the way the program seems to nip at her brain and pull it out of its safety in her skull. She doesn’t like it at all, and she is visibly distressed by the time Mummy comes to get her. She isn’t even rubbing her blanket that she insisted on having, she’s just sitting in the chair and rocking back and forth.

Mummy says to Dr. Noel, who has sat and watched Nyota the whole time, “She only rocks when she’s absolutely exhausted,” and Nyota wants to scream, “Stop telling her everything I do and why it’s wrong,” but she sits in silence, watching the holoscreen flicker in the corner of her vision as she rocks. Mummy wants to hold her hand when they walk out, but Nyota shakes her head firmly, like she always has, and marches resolutely to the car.

Nyota doesn’t like clouds anymore, and she can’t decide why. There’s just a grayness where the happiness for clouds once was. She shoves the cloud dress in the back of her closet. Mummy asks about it when she hasn’t worn it for two days, and Nyota doesn’t want to answer.

“I don’t like clouds anymore,” she says, pushing her potatoes around her plate with her fork. That’s all she offers, and Marjani can’t help but be a little relieved that she won’t have to hear about cumulonimbus clouds again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is finished! I wrote the entire thing in the month of April and I’m in the process of editing it right now. I do have school (done at the end of May!) and work so I’m going to be posting once a week but in the summer I might post a little faster! Updates are generally going to be Fridays, and the only reason the first chapter is going up on a Thursday is because I'm home sick and had time to edit.
> 
> The first couple of chapters are a little shorter, but I promise you will start getting some nice long ones soon! There’s a bit of backstory for Nyota and then we start heading places. Don’t worry, Spock will be appearing in the first five chapters. 
> 
> Also, I feel like it’s important to note: Autism is a developmental disorder, not a disease of any kind, so even in some advanced medical future, there isn’t a cure for it. Somehow in my mind there’s like this increased sense of ableism though? Like because of advanced medicine people who struggle in able-bodied, neurotypical environments are still seen as less than. 
> 
> I don’t actually headcanon Uhura as autistic, FYI. I just felt like the world needed some autistic Uhura in it, so this was birthed. I wrote the fic I wanted to read, basically, and if some other people enjoy it, that’s cool.


	2. the hours of the afternoon

Nyota is eight now, her hair always in a ponytail out of her eyes. The length straightens some of the curl, and she likes the way it looks. Her school uniform is blue, and she likes blue, which is good. Her padd is good too, an escape from the world around her that always dances at the edges of being overwhelming.

She doesn’t have friends, and she doesn’t know that she wants to. Eshe and Sanaa’s friends are loud and talk too much. There’s Y’slind, from Delta Vega, in her Pre-United Earth History class that she eats lunch with. There’s also Phau, a Bajoran that she talks math with, because no human wants to talk to an eight year-old who is going to be doing pre-algebra next year. The eleven year-olds are struggling enough without a child telling them how to do their homework.

Y’slind and Phau don’t care that the conversations she has with them are stilted and there are many silences as she tries to remember the right things to say. They teach her phrases in Bajoran and Vegan that she commits to memory. She prefers to talk in their languages, spending her weekends learning them. Nyota can read and speak one of the Klingon dialects right now, and she wants to learn the other two, despite the strained relationship between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. Languages fascinate her with their conjugations and endless concepts that don’t translate properly. It’s math that’s her true love, though, and she always saves her math homework for last so she can reward herself.

Nyota’s teachers all very carefully don’t mention her age every time she has a new class. She hasn’t been in classes with kids her own age since the first day of school, where she stood up in frustration at being told to sound out basic words with her peers.

She had gone to the academic advisor’s office that day, where she had done some math problems and demonstrated her ability to read and write proficiently. And then she had gone to class with the eight year-olds. Nyota is short and quiet and too young, and she knows they hate her. She always turns her work in early and consistently has one of the best grades in her class.

⋘⋙

Nyota is nine when she finishes learning the other two dialects of Klingon. She loves pre-algebra and tells Marjani that she’s going to be a mathematician when she grows up. Sanaa smiles at her across the table and asks her if she wants to go for ice cream with Rebecca and her after dinner. Nyota says yes, because it’s Sanaa, and Sanaa is always good. She licks chocolate from her hand and tells her sister’s girlfriend about her favorite parts of math class. Sanaa and Rebecca exchange a look, but it’s not the same one Mummy and Baba give each other, and Sanaa is smiling, so Nyota keeps chattering about her favorite thing.

⋘⋙

Nyota has known that she’s different all her life, but she understands the label hovering above her shoulders at all times when she is ten. She hides the small giveaways that threaten to oust her as even more different than her peers; stills the urge to rock in her last class of the day and chews gum instead of tapping her fingernails against the edge of her padd.

Nyota does not eat cafeteria meals. The food isn’t what her mother makes and there are too many options. She sits with her container full of food from home and does extra credit projects during lunch. She is careful to offer customary greetings to others and look at their eyebrows or nose to imitate eye contact. She can manage to meet people’s eyes only about half of the time, so finding ways to get around this are necessary. Teachers don’t like it when you stare at the wall behind them the entire time you’re asking them a question.

⋘⋙

Nyota is twelve before she realizes that she wants to learn Swahili. It takes her two months before she converses with her parents over dinner.

⋘⋙

There are three good things about thirteen.

One: she learns some excellent swear words that she holds onto for special occasions.

Two: Eshe’s dog Ruby gets sick and has to be put down. That dog never tried to stop licking Nyota’s hands.

Three: she gets her ears pierced. She’s wanted to wear earrings since she was five, but she’s had to work herself up to the idea of the pain and someone she doesn’t know touching her, however briefly.

Sanaa goes with Nyota and holds her hand, three days before her wedding. Nyota tries to tell her that it’s alright, Mom will go with her, but Sanaa just smiles and grabs her purse. The moment the piercer holds her ear to get the needle through isn’t bad, but the pinch brings a tear to her eyes. The other ear is okay because Nyota knows what to expect. She is so happy with the tiny studs in her ears and stares at them in the mirror the entire drive home. She thanks Sanaa and allows herself to briefly flap her happiness. Sanaa never stares when Nyota stims, which makes Nyota immeasurably happy.

A lump rises in her throat when Nyota remembers that Sanaa is leaving after her wedding.

⋘⋙

Nyota hates thirteen for five reasons.

The first is that she gets her period. It is officially the worst day of her life, she decides as she wads toilet paper into her underwear in the school bathroom. She is incredibly embarrassed and refuses to go to the school nurse for tampons or pads. Nyota doesn’t even tell her mother, just goes to the store after school and buys herself pads.

She watches the health vid over and over again on the Federation website, but decides she doesn’t think she can handle a tampon. Marjani finds out that her youngest daughter has gotten her period a year later, and sighs, knowing that she should have expected as much from Nyota.

The second is that Sanaa gets married and moves away. Nyota has always liked Sanaa more than Eshe. Even though Sanaa marries a wonderful lady, Nyota feels completely empty about their move to London. She wants to feel something, but stands numbly through their wedding in her comfortable bridesmaid dress that is the same shade of blue as the sky.

She is still numb for five days after Sanaa’s footsteps aren’t in the hall anymore. Nyota carefully avoids talking about Sanaa with her parents, but sends Sanaa school updates every Saturday on her padd. Sanaa replies with news like “Rebecca spilled coffee on our cat this morning,” and “Our neighbor has thirty-two plants on his patio.” It helps a little, but not enough.

The third reason Nyota hates thirteen is that Phau goes back to Bajor with his parents; something about a Federation posting for his mom. There’s a lump in her throat when he isn’t sitting next to her in trigonometry class the first day of school. Nyota sends him her favorite problem from the homework, but he doesn’t reply. She carefully erases his contact information from her padd and communicator and proceeds to cry for twenty minutes into the soft fabric of her star blanket.

Reason number four: Eshe has a serious boyfriend. Who she talks to all the time. She refuses to listen to Nyota yelling about paper thin walls and talks to her boyfriend on her communicator until 0200 nearly every night.

Nyota starts taking naps in her study period after trigonometry.

Five: This stupid boy in her Off-World Literature class has decided he’s going to torture her. His name is Edward West. His father is a lieutenant in engineering on the _USS Farragut_ , and he tells everyone this until they hate him. He’s literally eighteen, about to graduate, and he decides he likes Nyota.

“I’m thirteen,” Nyota says, clutching her stack of padds to her chest, attempting to hide any signs of her body betraying her and growing up. “And even if I was an appropriate age to date you, I would still refuse. I do not find you attractive, and your inability to close your mouth is even less attractive.”

Edward gets this look in his eyes that makes her think he's going to try to touch her but he walks off instead. He sits across from her at lunch, even though she ignores his incessant questions and comments on her appearance.

Nyota reports his actions to the principal after a week and plays the recording she made of their few conversations. Edward is removed from her class and warned that if he talks to her again, he will be suspended, possibly expelled.

He stares at her across the cafeteria now, and she itches from his gaze. She wants to throw up at the thought of him kissing her like she knows he wants. Nyota is glad for the last day of school for the first time in her life. She will never have to see that asshole again.

⋘⋙

There is one thing Nyota learns at thirteen that she is indifferent to. She didn’t care when Sanaa started dating girls instead of boys, but never gave her own sexuality much thought. The onset of puberty has heightened her awareness, though, and she realizes in a moment of self-evaluation that she never looks at girls. There aren’t a lot of boys she’s attracted to, but it’s definitely them she wants.

Touching is an activity with strict rules though, so she knows she won’t be having sex for a long time, if at all. Sex seems like it might be nice, but there is no way Nyota is going is going to bother with boys any time soon, so she gets acquainted with her hand at night and decides she’ll be alright until she finds someone she would be okay to touch and be touched by.

⋘⋙

Marjani had been concerned when Nyota let it slip that she had gotten the contraceptive implant one afternoon when she was fifteen. Her mother had wanted to know if Nyota was being safe, if she had been pressured into having sex.

Nyota had refused to even imitate eye contact and told her mother that it was so she didn’t get her period anymore.

“It’s too much for me to deal with, you know, sensory-wise,” she had said, and her mother’s hands had tightened on the wheel of her car.

Nyota knew that her mother thought she was lying like a lot of teenage girls, but Nyota legitimately couldn’t handle another week full of blood and hypos to soothe her cramps. It grated on her nerves that her mother hadn’t believed her and she almost made up some guy to get her mother off her back, but Sanaa had actually encouraged her to get the implant and gave her a hug at Christmas after Nyota cried about the interaction to her.

She touches the inside of her left arm where the subdermal implant lies sometimes when she studies. It’s not like she can feel it, but it’s a reassuring notion. It won’t work itself out of her skin for another six years at least, possibly eight, for which she is immeasurably grateful. Having her period should be a distant, hellish memory that she never has to experience again.

⋘⋙

Marjani and Kibwe make her wait until she is sixteen before they let her apply to colleges, even though she will have to spend her sixteenth year taking useless classes to fill her time. Nyota took calculus last year, and there’s no higher math left to take at her school, so she takes statistics, an atrocity to the idea of math. She fights to stay awake doing the homework.

That fall, she learns Vulcan, both the Modern tongue and Old High Vulcan. In the spring, she plows her way through Coridani and Saurian.

Y’slind graduated last year, so Nyota is alone for the majority of her time. She’s alright with it, though. She’s taken to reading books upon books of Vulcan literature in her spare time, expanding to Klingon and Romulan during winter break.

She is accepted into every single school she applies to, and she actually asks her mother for advice about which one to attend. Nyota has half plans to actually listen to her mother, but she knows it will be seen as an important action. 

The itch to see new places cannot be ignored anymore, despite her desire for things to stay the same, so she settles on going to London. She consoles Marjani and Kibwe with the knowledge that she will be near Sanaa and Rebecca.

Her graduation feels odd. Nyota is glad for the lack of ridiculous caps but she winces through the handshake she must offer Principal Jira when she accepts her holoprinted diploma. She sees Marjani crying in the crowd and Kibwe wiping a tear of his own away. Eshe is on her padd, probably messaging her boyfriend.

The summer between her graduation and university, Nyota teaches herself Orion and Taklathi. She likes being able to mutter things in languages no one else in her family knows, as well as read more selections from the Federation database. If she knows nearly every language spoken by Federation inhabitants, she can read nearly every book known to living creatures.

⋘⋙

Nyota’s parents take her to the moon colony as a goodbye trip at the beginning of August. Eshe stays home to work and to be with her boyfriend. Nyota is secretly glad that she doesn’t have to spend time with Eshe. She celebrates her birthday on the moon, a simple day spent wandering through shops. Her mother gets her a new pair of earrings with Vulcan script on them for Nyota. Marjani doesn’t know what they mean,just knows that her daughter will. They have the Vulcan word for strength, _karik’es_ , on them, and it’s just such a Vulcan thing to do, to  put ‘strength’ on a piece of jewelry. It makes Nyota smile.

Marjani and Kibwe drag her to cultural experiences for a week, and the only ones she enjoys are the concerts. They go to a Bajoran one on their last day on the moon. Nyota spends the whole shuttle ride back to Kenya translating the story of the choral pieces for her parents. Kibwe listens to his daughter intently, but Marjani falls asleep ten minutes in.

Nyota cannot allow herself to show she cares anymore. Her mother’s inattentiveness to her interests has been apparent for years now.

Nyota packs her blanket in her bag with padds for the shuttle flight to London. She is not going to give up her comfort item just because she’s officially leaving home. She tried to sleep without it one night and lay there for an hour before retrieving it from the end of her bed.

She was able to request a single room in the dorms using her medical transcript, so she won’t have to bother explaining herself to a roommate. She cited specifically her issue with noises and need for a constant routine, holding her breath that these concerns would be taken seriously. However, London Polytechnic University willingly accommodated her. Nyota is incredibly grateful to think that she won’t have to worry about someone touching her things or being in her space.

⋘⋙

There is an anxious ache in her stomach about starting this new chapter in her life that she cannot quell. She doesn’t eat breakfast, even though her shuttle leaves at ten hundred hours. She concentrates on the thought of Sanaa meeting her at the shuttleport against the ache of saying goodbye to her parents, no longer pixels floating in her room and message after message on her padd.

It takes her a moment to find her sister in the sea of lifeforms waiting for the shuttle. Nyota hangs back and waits for the crush of bodies to dissolve before walking quickly towards Sanaa. She runs the last couple of steps and stops in front of her favorite sister.

Sanaa smiles. “I’ve missed you so much, Nyota. Look at you, all grown up.”

Nyota smiles back and snaps her gum. She reaches in her bag to touch her blanket briefly before stepping closer to Sanaa.

“You can hug me,” she says, and she’s crying a little. Sanaa wraps her up in her arms, even though Nyota is two inches taller now. Sanaa smells the same, that soft hint of freshness. Nyota is so thankful for her always thinking of her sister’s needs, the waiting until she says it’s okay before Sanaa hugs her.

Nyota has never felt like she belongs except when she’s conjugating verbs or maybe in the depths of a calculus problem, but the feeling eases a little when she’s with Sanaa. She breaks the hug first, like always, but her smile matches Sanaa’s all the way to her sister’s car.

  
_Maybe I shouldn’t have been so afraid of London after all_ , she thinks as her bag thumps her thigh with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unaware, stimming stands for self-stimulatory behaviors. Any number of neurodiverse people participate in stimming, but it’s most common among those of us with autism, anxiety and/or adhd. Here’s a list of my stims, to give you an idea of all the ways these behaviors can manifest: flapping (arms, hands, and even feet!), tapping, clicking pens, chewing on pens (but it’s super bad for my teeth so I’ve replaced it with chewing gum), twirling my ponytail, feeling a nice texture over and over again, etc. If I sat here and listed them all, we would probably be here all day! The point is, I gave Nyota a few of my stims, especially stealth ones I use all the time in public when I don’t want to be stared at.
> 
> Nyota Uhura is absolutely gay in the original series, but the characters are all so different in the new movies that I'm very?? I'm kind of writing my personal experience here so when in doubt I'm reverting back to that. 
> 
> From now on, the chapters are long! 6-7 thousand words long! This means more editing to be done, of course, but I’m slogging through it while keeping my grades up so you know. It is what it is.
> 
> A concession, also: I’m going be updating on Thursdays. I originally said Friday because that’s my day free of all obligations, but it’s not a huge hassle to post when I get home from school. I've also decided that I will definitively be posting twice a week when school is over.


	3. my business is to hold things together

Nyota spends her first day of classes trying not to have a panic attack, but tells Marjani that she loves it at LPU. She does love it, really. She loves her teachers and the material offered. It’s just a new environment that she doesn’t know yet, and classes are conducted in a way she hasn’t experienced before. Nyota spends the first weekend of the semester walking around campus over and over again until she knows all the buildings back to front. The second week of classes, she feels the routine taking hold of her shoulders, and she relaxes a little.

Her dorm room is small, but it’s her own, and that’s her favorite thing about it. She loses herself in the routine of school during the following weeks. Nyota makes an acquaintance in her calc II class that she sometimes eats lunch with, but she often eats lunch alone in the library while she does school work. On Saturdays, she has dinner with Sanaa and Rebecca. Their cat does not attempt to approach her, and she is thankful for that. Sometimes, though, she wants to feel the softness of his fur and runs her fingers through it while he sleeps in the setting sunlight.

Sanaa makes food from home for Nyota, another gesture that causes inexpressible thanks to well up in Nyota’s throat. She savors _matoke_ while Rebecca tells her about her workweek. Nyota knows Sanaa has already heard every little detail and piece of drama from the Federation office where Rebecca files reports in the databank. She is thankful that Sanaa cares enough for her sister and her wife that she does not complain about hearing it all again.

Rebecca listens to music with Nyota too, smiling at the way her wife’s sister sways her body when her favorite song comes on the radio. Sanaa likes Vulcan music too, so sometimes they all dance together to the lyrical sounds of Vulcan syllables and quick notes from _ka’athyras_ after eating piles of _ugali_. Nyota always feels awkward dancing, but not around Rebecca and Sanaa. Besides, they always want to hear her translate the lyrics after the song is over.

Rebecca looks at Sanaa in wonder every time Nyota talks about the intricacies of the formulas she’s learning or speaks in one of the climbing number of languages she knows, and it makes Nyota’s heart feel at ease.

⋘⋙

Nyota goes through packs of gum in an effort to stim without drawing attention to herself. She already has enough of that happening with her constant corrections of her teachers’ mistakes, who smile and thank her. Her fellow students seem to hold a grudge against her sharp mind and good grades, though, for some reason she doesn’t understand. Nyota does not believe in making herself seem less smart to be better liked. She’s never been well-liked and doesn’t see the appeal. Too much attention on her, too many people noticing her subtle differences. Standing out makes her uncomfortable, so the only thing she allows herself freedom of expression with is her earrings.

Nyota owns thirty-nine pairs of earrings. She still has the small purple studs her ears were pierced with, as well as some studs in simple colors. The rest are all dangly. Nyota loves the feeling of them against her neck and the sound they make when she turns her head quickly. She starts buying a pair or two for every new language she learns, and her collection grows steadily as Seshto and Tellaran, Tan and Ferengi join the ranks of ways she knows how to express herself.

⋘⋙

She spends winter break with Sanaa and Rebecca, not thinking she can handle being in the heat of home for so short a period of time before dragging herself back to the call of academia. She calls her parents with them on Christmas and they sing Jingle Bells loudly together, even though Nyota blinks back tears as she watches her father smile through the holoscreen while he sings.

The second semester is more of the same. The guy she sometimes eats lunch with asks her out in February, and she tells him she has to think about it. Nyota calls Sanaa when she gets to her dorm that night and asks her advice.

“Do you like him?”

Nyota lines the edge of her padd up with the edge of her desk. “I don’t know. I mean, should I go out with him just because he asked me? I know he’s a math major too, but not much else. Like, I can’t even decide if I think he’s attractive.”

Sanaa’s laughter is quick and makes her smile. “Nyota, if you can’t figure out if he’s good looking or not, he probably isn’t. You don’t have to feel obligated to go out with someone just because they ask you. Have you even gone on a date before?”

“No,” Nyota says, and suddenly feels ashamed. “I know I’m seventeen, but I don’t know; dating seems stupid. I want to just find my person and be done, you know?”

“So you do want to find someone to settle down with?”

“Yeah, I do. I just, I don’t know. The thought of having sex with someone who doesn’t know me intimately freaks me out, so like, I haven’t done anything and- I feel kind of stupid for it. I know everyone my age has at least fooled around, but my skin crawls when my own mother touches me in passing. Sanaa, am I eternally fucked up? Am I ever going to find anyone willing to put up with me besides my own sister? God, I’m going to die alone and a virgin, aren’t I?”

“Nyota, honey. It’s okay. Plenty of people don’t have sex until they’re older. It’s not a big deal. I was fifteen when I lost my virginity; not much younger than you. It’s okay that you only want to have sex with someone you’ve been dating for a long time, or married to, or whatever. Being yourself is the best thing that you can be, and if someone doesn’t want to listen to you speak over twenty languages in bed, that’s their problem. Nyota, I’m going to ask you because it was at your age that I made this discovery: Are you even attracted to men?”

“Yeah, I am. I mean, I’ve seen like five guys I thought were hot in my entire lifetime because not a lot of them are attractive to me, but yeah, I like guys. Don’t worry, I had this self-evaluation at thirteen in the throes of puberty.” Nyota traces the edge of her communicator with her fingernail as she talks, thankful that Sanaa asks the right questions and is easy to talk to.

“Maybe I need to date an off-worlder who isn’t going to have the same expectations humans do. Maybe that’s the answer: date a non-Terran. The few friends I’ve had haven’t been human, so maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.”

Sanaa cracks a nasty joke about alien biology and their compatibility with humans.

Nyota laughs nervously, trying to make light of it, and steers the conversation elsewhere after assuring Sanaa she won’t go out with the guy just because he asked her.

She turns him down as politely as she can over her salad the next day. He doesn’t want to eat with her or go over math problems anymore, but she feels his gaze in class twice a week.

⋘⋙

Nyota briefly considers staying with Sanaa and Rebecca over the summer, but decides in the end that she’s homesick for the desert air of Kenya. She spends her summer annoying Eshe and her parents by saying no to them in a different language every time they ask her if she has a boyfriend.

Kibwe and Marjani treat their daughters to two weeks on Risa in July. Eshe’s boyfriend Gabriel comes too, and Nyota is grateful Eshe is not going to annoy her endlessly. She looks up her professors for the next semester and reads their dissertations by the ocean while Eshe and Gabriel swim. Nyota gets in the ocean once, floating in the transparent water for half an hour before she’s had enough for another year.

Nyota has her head in her padd and runs into someone at the beginning of the second week outside the hotel. She instantly recognizes her face when she turns to apologize.

“ _Wuh lafot tor t'nash-veh,_ T’Surit. The fault is mine,” Nyota hastily says with flawless inflection.

T’Surit is the dean of London Polytechnic University, and Nyota wants to take every upper division class she teaches. Nyota is confused as to why a Vulcan would be on a resort planet, but does not allow her confusion to show. It is not her business what T’Surit is doing here.

“ _Rai thrap nam-tor taken wilat rim nam-tor putan-tor_. No offense is taken where none is given,” T’Surit says before switching to Standard.

“It is unusual to run into a human who displays such aptitude for the Vulcan tongue. What is your name?”

“Nyota Uhura, Dean T’Surit. I’m going to be a second year at London Polytechnic University this fall. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Nyota is trembling a little, but she moves her hands behind her back, still grasping her padd. She’s never actually spoken Vulcan to a Vulcan before, but she is relieved that her pronunciation withstood scrutiny.

“It is a pleasure to meet students under my jurisdiction. What is your major?”

“Mathematics, ma’am.”

T’Surit’s eyes seem to look right through her. Nyota stifles a shiver.

“What are your plans once you are graduated?”

“Unsure as of yet, ma’am. However, I have learned quite a number of non-Terran languages, so I might combine math and my other skills; maybe even work for Starfleet.”

Nyota doesn’t know where that came from. She’s never thought of joining Starfleet before. She walked right past their booth at LPU during orientation week and refused to even take a holoprint brochure. Seeing T’Surit has made something rise in her and say things she never thought she would. Perhaps it is the same thing that spurred her to go to London and leave the safety of home.

T’Surit raises an eyebrow. “Fascinating. I trust you will perform well in your studies this fall.”

The Vulcan woman raises her hand in salute. “ _Diftor heh smusma_. Live long and prosper.”

Nyota inclines her head in deference before returning the farewell.

T’Surit turns and leaves in a swirl of thick robes. Nyota has always wondered if Vulcans on Earth dressed in layers that they would not have worn on Vulcan, but somehow, she doesn’t believe it. _They probably pile on extra sweaters in the heat_ , she thinks to herself, and smiles at the thought.

Nyota doesn’t tell her parents about her chance meeting with T’Surit, but she replays the interaction over and over again in her head. She didn’t say anything wrong, and she knows it for once. She's always sure she says something wrong in social interactions when they’re conducted in Standard. Maybe she needs to speak in other languages more often and the stilted words of conversation in Standard will give way to a more talented tongue in otherworldly sounds.

Nyota has always known what she wants, but she doesn’t know if what she said to T’Surit is actually true. Does she actually want to join Starfleet? The thought of being among the stars both fascinates and scares her. Maybe it will be too overwhelming, but maybe she should not let fear make decisions for her, she thinks, and decides to take her time and not rush herself.

⋘⋙

Nyota takes the brochure from the recruitment officer this year and reads it carefully in the safety of her dorm room. She tucks it in her desk drawer and thinks about it for the entire semester.

Rebecca announces that she’s pregnant on the Christmas video call, her and Sanaa’s faces lit up like the Christmas tree behind them.

“I’m due in August, three days before Nyota’s birthday,” she says, beaming.

Nyota cannot find it in herself to be selfish in this moment. Sanaa and Rebecca deserve every happiness together.

⋘⋙

The spring semester is spent with the Starfleet brochure moved to the top of her desk.

Sanaa visits her sister once in March, turning the tables on their usual schedule when Rebecca is laid out with pregnancy-induced nausea. Nyota invites her into the cramped room, gesturing towards her bed.

“Let me just clean up for a minute. I’m finishing an essay for this psych class I need for GE and I have twelve problems left in this diff eq set, but it’s alright; neither of them are due until Monday.”

It is Saturday, and Nyota stacks the padds neatly on her desk, shifting holoprints aside into neat piles to match. The Starfleet brochure has shifted to the bottom of the pile, so she sets it aside for a moment. When she turns back, Sanaa is holding it.

“I didn’t know you were interested in Starfleet,” she says. “That’s a big decision right there. No pressure or anything. I’m proud of you whatever you choose to do.”

It takes Nyota a moment of her palms sweating before she wipes them on her skirt and decides to tell Sanaa about running into T’Surit on Risa last July. After she has told her sister the story, and how long she’s had the brochure, Nyota waits for Sanaa to say something. Sanaa always says the right things.

“Nyota, I think that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you and all your talents. You’re talented, smart, and good looking to boot. I’m the luckiest sister in the world. When you’re a lieutenant commander and sitting on the bridge of some elite _USS Whatever_ someday, I’m going to tell everyone I know how proud I am of you.”

Nyota blushes and reaches for her blanket to fidget with. “Sanaa, I don’t know, okay? Thank you for being so supportive and lovely. I don’t know what I would do without you. If I ever make lieutenant commander, if I even enlist in Starfleet, you will be my first call. Even if I have a boyfriend,” she adds with a laugh.

Sanaa puts her hand over her heart. “Nyota, I’m truly touched. Now, can I yell at you for a second about my crippling fear of becoming a mother? I’m going to fuck our child up, I just know it, and I’m not even the one giving birth to it!”

Nyota smiles and twirls her ponytail around her finger. “You can yell at me about this all you want, lovely sister of mine, but you’re going to be a great mother. You’ve always given me exactly the kind of love that I think all children want.”

⋘⋙

Nyota doesn’t go home this summer. She decides to cram her degree into three years, and after four meetings with her academic advisor, breaks the news to her parents. Starfleet is in her head now, and it’s not leaving. Nyota takes four classes that summer, her hours eaten up from dawn until dusk studying.

Kibwe and Marjani promise to come visit for a weekend in July, insisting that they need to see their daughter at least once a year in person. The weekend her parents choose she has three midterms due that Monday morning, so she pulls an all nighter on Friday to get them done. Her parents stay with Sanaa and Rebecca, but insist on coming to see her dorm room the afternoon they arrive.

Nyota doesn’t bother cleaning up her room for their visit. There’s too many padds full of lecture notes and problem sets; holoprints and earrings strewn all over her dresser and shoved to the end of her bed. She chooses three hours of sleep over a shower, running to the cafeteria to grab coffee before her parents get there. Nyota meets them by the dorms with her hair thrown up in her usual ponytail and clutching her mug to her chest. She’s wearing the same dress she wore yesterday that she fell asleep in, its pastel blue print disguised by untold wrinkles.

Nyota doesn’t have emotional space for any of this right now, but Sanaa is with her parents, which helps. She manages a short hug for each of her parents and tries not to yawn.

“I had three tests due Monday, so I finished them last night. I’m kind of a mess right now, but if you want to see my space, I’ll take you.”

Marjani reaches a hand out to rest on her daughter’s shoulder, even after all these years. Nyota tries not to flinch, but can’t help it. She hates the sadness in her mom’s eyes when they have yet another interaction where her mother forgets her boundaries, after every perfectly polite conversation Nyota has with her.

“Anyways,” Nyota says, pasting on a smile. “Dorms are close by. Campus is pretty empty because not a lot of students take summer classes, but there are the dedicated few.”

Kibwe remarks that it’s a beautiful campus, and Nyota laughs.

“It is, but I don’t stop and look at the scenery much.”

Sanaa remains silent the entire time her parents drill Nyota about her life, but she pulls her younger sister aside while her parents use the bathroom down the hall in her dorm.

“Are you alright, Nyota? This weekend is bad, I know. Can I do anything to help you?”

The concern in Sanaa’s eyes makes Nyota want to break down sobbing.

“I’m just so worn out. School takes everything out of me. I want nothing more than to sleep and take a shower at this exact moment. The stress of it all is eating me alive. Maybe I need to take up some form of exercise or something just to get it all out. Just, right now, at this exact moment, I wish Mom and Dad were in a different country. That’s so awful of me to say, but I am so stressed and tired.”

Nyota fights back tears, trying to work past the lump in her throat that threatens to choke her.

“Oh hon,” Sanaa says and carefully touches Nyota’s arm. “I’ll take them sightseeing this afternoon so you can rest. You don’t have to come with us. I’ll tell them you really need to catch up on sleep. Get a shower, take a nap, jerk off, do whatever gets some of the stress out, ok? I love you dearly. Now, you look like you maybe want a nice tight hug. Am I wrong?”

Nyota shakes her head and steps into her sister’s embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispers into Sanaa’s shoulder. The pressure of Sanaa’s arms around her is exactly what she needs in this moment, and she is not going to let the approaching footsteps of her parents sway her into their wants.

“I’ll talk to them for you, okay, Nyota? You don’t have to say anything to them at all if you don’t want,” Sanaa says as she pulls away.

“That would be really nice. Thank you so much, Sanaa. You’re a lifesaver.”

Sanaa steps out of Nyota’s room, carefully avoiding a precarious stack of padds by the dresser. Nyota listens to her sister explain for her through her door, and the quiet understanding that her father voices. Marjani is silent, but she must have nodded or something, because Nyota hears three sets of footsteps travel down the hall and disappear into the soft whine of the turbolift.

The first thing she does is take a shower and get into clean clothes. Then she clears her bed off, moving everything into neat piles on the floor. Nyota falls asleep the moment her star blanket is in her hand and her head is on her pillow.

She wakes up in time for Sanaa and her parents to get her on their way back to Sanaa’s house for dinner. Rebecca stayed home from sight-seeing for the sole reason that she is nearly nine months pregnant and she pees every half an hour.

They have a nice dinner, the five of them. Marjani gives Rebecca a baby blanket she knitted, and Rebecca starts crying.

“Stupid hormones,” she says, blinking back tears.

The rest of Kibwe and Marjani’s visit is spent with Nyota feeling like she’s on the outside. She doesn’t feel this way around Sanaa or Rebecca, and it makes her stomach hurt to realize that her parents don’t feel like home anymore.

Home is her dorm room and Sanaa and Rebecca’s little family that will soon be one more. Home is endless math problems, integrals scrolling through her brain at all hours of the day and night. Home is language after language fitting inside her skull, the thousands of words she knows crawling out to keep her company at night as she listens to newscasts from all corners of the galaxy. Home is padds up to her elbows and floral dresses. Home is not Kenya anymore, and Nyota doesn’t know if she should be sad about it.

⋘⋙

Rebecca gives birth to a little boy two days before Nyota’s birthday. They name him Earl Kibwe Uhura, and he is the most beautiful thing Nyota has ever seen. She gasps over his tiny ears, the sweep of his eyelashes against his soft brown skin. She wants to stare at him for as long as she can.

She starts spending Sunday afternoons instead of Saturday nights at her sister’s house. Little Earl is the sweetest baby and Nyota wants to smell his hair every day for the rest of her life. Sanaa is just as doting a mother as Rebecca, but she admits she’s glad she didn’t have to be pregnant.

“Listening to my wife complain about it was enough for me, thanks,” Sanaa says more than once.

Nyota doesn’t think she could handle being pregnant, but maybe she would adopt. Some part of her is desperately in love with Earl’s tiny hands and baby yawns. She wants a baby someday, she decides as Earl throws up all over her hand. Someday, but definitely not anytime soon.

⋘⋙

There is a week’s respite between summer classes ending and the fall semester, and Nyota uses it to get a headstart on some homework. She also starts running in the mornings. There’s a fantastic gym at LPU, but she likes running outside, feeling the sharpness of the damp air in her lungs. She looks at the fitness requirements for Starfleet, and she has a long way to go. Squats, pullups, and pushups find their way into her morning workout when school starts.

⋘⋙

At orientation week, the last one Nyota will ever attend at LPU, she marches straight to Starfleet’s booth.

“Do you do pre-enlisting? Like can I enlist a year before I’m finished with preliminary schooling? Does it work like college or what?”

The man, whose name badge reads Lieutenant Holm, blinks at her for a minute before replying.

“Ma’am, if you would like to become a cadet, you can take an informational brochure and leave your contact information with us.”

Nyota tries not to roll her eyes at the stupidity of this man. “Lieutenant Holm, I have a brochure. I want to know if I can apply to enroll for next fall. I don’t know how enrollment works, if it’s the same as university or if it’s different.”

She turns to the lieutenant’s partner. The Tezwan’s badge reads Ensign Borra, her feathers a dazzling array of reds and oranges against the grey of her dress uniform.

“ _Does this idiot need his hearing checked?_ ” Nyota asks Ensign Borra in the sharp staccato of Seshto.

Ensign Borra’s slit pupils widen before she replies in harshly accented Standard.

“Humans don’t speak Seshto. Who are you?”

Lieutenant Holm looks from Nyota to the ensign. “What did she say, Borra?”

“Lieutenant, she wants to know if your hearing needs to be checked. She wants information that you are refusing to give her and is rightfully irritated. Now, I don’t believe you can apply earlier than next summer for the fall, but if you would wait one moment while I call a superior officer, I can have an answer for you.”

The lieutenant looks like he’s about to get huffy, but Ensign Borra pulls a communicator from her pocket and is already talking to someone about Nyota’s question before he can actually speak.

Nyota smiles at him as she waits for an answer. A couple freshmen come to the booth and take brochures while Ensign Borra is on her comm. Nyota smiles tightly at their eagerness and the anxiety she has fought for so long threatens to consume her ribcage. Ensign Borra finally turns back to Nyota with an answer after what seems like an eternity.

“You can’t apply until the end of May for next fall, but thank you for your interest. May I ask what you plan to attend for?”

“Xenolinguistics,” Nyota says before she can stop herself. “I’m getting my degree in math, but I want to work on translators and maybe even work on a starship someday.”

“How many languages do you know besides Seshto and Standard? Oh and I need your name,” Ensign Borra asks, typing something on her padd. Lieutenant Holm is trying to appear uninterested in their conversation and failing miserably.

Nyota tells her and her feathers ruffle in a wave down her body.

“ _Trithak_ , that’s a lot. Well, we could certainly use someone like you in Starfleet, Nyota Uhura. If you could just type your personal padd ID in for me, we will send you some information about scholarships and possible internship opportunities. You’ll be in our system, so we’ll be waiting for you to apply. Good luck finishing school.”

Nyota smiles at the ensign and types her information in quickly. She walks away breathing shakily but happy.

⋘⋙

T’Surit is teaching two of her five classes this semester. She is a hard and unyielding teacher who does not make mistakes in classwork. Nyota never does the homework in class for the dean’s classes, too busy making sure she writes everything down exactly as T’Surit does. Nyota gets a 97 and a 99 on the first tests in T’Surit’s classes and proceeds to happy stim for twenty minutes in the privacy of her dorm.

Nyota visits T’Surit in her office hours when she has a spare hour, which is nearly never, but they always have the most interesting conversations about class material. T’Surit sends her a paper or two on the connections between mathematical equations and languages, which Nyota reads and smiles. The Vulcan appears to stay fairly professional, but Nyota likes to think they’re maybe friends.

It takes all of Nyota’s energy to keep up her exercise regime and grades. Some Sunday afternoons, she spends an hour holding Earl while he sleeps and quickly tells Rebecca and Sanaa about T’Surit’s latest lectures. There are a few Sundays she has to skip, the weeks of midterms and finals. Nyota doesn’t have time this semester or the next to learn a new language, so she decides to learn at least one over the summer before she goes to Starfleet.

T’Surit actually thanks Nyota when she hands in her final.

“Your conversation has been stimulating and I believe you are more than capable of continuing to perform admirably,” the dean says, and Nyota blushes. It’s high praise, and she can’t thank the dean enough.

⋘⋙

Nyota sleeps a little more over winter break, but her days are full of starting homework for the next semester. She has six classes for her last semester at LPU, and she’s unsure if she’s going to be able to sleep at all, much less spend a couple hours a week with her family. The Christmas call with her parents is all happy and bright, no matter that Nyota works on a problem set during dinner afterwards. Sanaa looks at her concernedly as she spoons sweet potatoes in her mouth with one hand and writes out a problem with her stylus in the other hand.

“Nyota, if you don’t get into Starfleet, it’s going to be because you killed yourself trying. The spring semester hasn’t even started yet and you’re already dying. How much coffee are you going to consume in the next couple of months? Do I need to check in on you sporadically with Earl so you can get some baby love in the middle of your self-induced math coma?”

“Sanaa, I’m going to be fine. Running helps me wake up in the mornings, so I don’t use caffeine that often, really. I know my limits, but I will say that I don’t think I have time to come over on Sundays anymore. I just don’t want to stay at LPU for longer than I have to, you know? I want to go to Starfleet. I’ve set my mind on it, and I’m not going to wait around longer than I have to. I know that I can do this, so I’m doing it. Sanaa, I know you’re worried, but so long as I can see you and Rebecca and Earl for just a minute or two every week, I will be fine.”

Nyota doesn’t have room for doubt or uncertainty. She knows what she wants. She’s made her decisions and she’s happy with it. Sanaa looks at her with this _look_ but Nyota doesn’t need her concern. She’s thankful for the thought, but it’s unnecessary.

⋘⋙

Nyota starts averaging five hours of sleep a night, six on the weekend. She doesn’t even take breaks for meal times anymore, just eats endless salads while doing homework.

For some reason she can’t rationalize, she starts wearing makeup again. She wore it for a brief period of time when she was fourteen and has never touched it since, choosing to spend her time on other things.

Which is why when Nyota wakes up one Sunday with the urge to put on some eyeliner, she decides to sit on the urge and see if it will go away. It doesn’t.

Rebecca brings Earl to her dorm, and for once Nyota only has two hours of homework to do. She actually managed eight hours of sleep the night before and her dorm room only slightly resembles a trash receptacle. Nyota holds her nephew and sings to him for an hour before she hands Earl back to her sister-in-law.

“I’m sorry, I need to run to the store for a few things. I’m semi-free for once, and I want to spend time with my nephew and you and Sanaa, but I just need to go out, okay?”

Rebecca doesn’t always understand Nyota. Sanaa talks to her all the time about how concerned she is for her baby sister. Her wife has always had a soft spot for Nyota, and several times at the beginning of their relationship cut their dates short because Nyota needed something. Rebecca can’t resent her for it, but there are times when she wonders what really goes on inside Nyota that makes Sanaa so protective of her. Nyota always seems so smart and capable that Sanaa’s remarks seem off, somehow not fitting with the Nyota she knows.

Nyota smiles at Rebecca and her son. “I love you both, okay? I’ll call Sanaa tonight, so don’t worry about passing on any messages for me.”

Nyota walks with Rebecca to the parking lot before she goes to the store.

It’s only mascara and eyeliner at first, carefully applied after her run and shower. She doesn’t really have time for more than that, anyways. As the semester progresses, though, she allows another minute or two for some shimmery eyeshadow.

A couple guys try to ask her out, and she actually says yes to one of them. It’s a mistake. All he wants to do is sleep with her, so she ends up walking back to her room sighing. She says no to all the guys after that, and a few girls too.

A guy in her physics class who sits next to her asks how many classes Nyota is taking after seeing the stack of padds in her bag. Nyota tells him, and his face is a perfect o of surprise. She turns back to her padd and starts on the homework for the next class. She doesn't have time to deal with surprised classmates.

Nyota doesn’t associate with other students. She shared notes with someone once, but didn’t after that because word got around she took the best notes and everyone wanted her padd ID so they could get them. She doesn’t have time to compile notes for all her classes and send them out. She doesn’t want to be nasty, but she’s pretty sure it comes across that way.

⋘⋙

Nyota applies for her degree after midterms. Her academic advisor asks her how she’s holding up. Nyota stares blankly at her.

“I wake up at 0500 every morning. I go on a run, then I take a shower. I’m in class every day from 0800 to 1500. Then I do homework until I go to bed around zero hundred hours. I see my sister, her wife, and my nephew once a week for two hours maximum. I don’t know how I’m holding up. I just have my schedule, and I stick to it. If I don’t, my homework doesn’t get done. I’m graduating in two months, and that’s all that matters.”

Her advisor laughs and says something about Nyota’s life outside of school seeming nonexistent.

“It is,” Nyota says. There is an inkling of loneliness, when she has time to think about it, but she _doesn’t_ have time to think about it. She's graduating in two months and applying to Starfleet that same week.

She forgoes Sundays with her sister and sister-in-law at the end of the semester, trying to get ahead on some of the last homework assignments so she can turn in a few finals early. Nyota actually manages to accomplish this, probably on too little sleep. However, her grades have remained as high as she wants them the entire semester, so she shouldn't doubt her abilities to perform at this point.

⋘⋙

Nyota feels itchy after she turns in her last final. She knows she did well, but she can't remember the last time she had free time. She wakes up the next morning at 0500, her body used to the exacting routine she enforced on it for these months. Nyota lies there for a glorious ten minutes extra though, stretching her toes and thinking about her plans for the summer. Maybe she will go back to Kenya. It's been too long since she breathed desert air, no matter how much she loves Sanaa and her family. Besides, she's pretty sure Eshe and Gabriel are getting married this summer.

Her communicator goes off during her run that's slightly more leisurely than normal, a long loop around campus that she repeats several times. Nyota actually has time to answer it, but her heart rate is elevated and her breathing is coming heavier, so there is a pause between Eshe’s “Nyota?” and Nyota’s, “Oh my god, hi Eshe.”

“Are you alright? You sound winded. It's early in London isn't it? Are you exercising before the sun is up? Oh my god you are. I can’t believe it! Who are you with?”

“Eshe,” Nyota sighs, “I am not performing that kind of exercise. I was running, thank you very much. I run every morning, actually. It's good for you, you should take it up. Anyways, why are you calling me? You never call me.”

Eshe and Nyota have never gotten along. It's probably equally their faults, but something about Eshe has always rubbed her younger sister the wrong way. She knows Sanaa and Eshe have a decent relationship and they talk nearly every week, but it's never been that way between her and Eshe. Maybe it's because the age gap between Nyota and Sanaa is closer to mother and child and it's just awkward between Eshe and Nyota. Whatever the reason, the two younger girls have always fought and antagonized each other with few attempts to understand each other.

“Gabriel and I are getting married,” Eshe says all in a rush, the joy tangible across the distance. “We want to get married really soon, like the beginning of July. We’ve just been together awhile, you know, and we decided we did want to get married, so what's the wait?”

“That's wonderful!” Nyota exclaims. She really is happy that her sister is happy, but somehow her aloneness seems magnified by the information. She knows she shouldn't feel weird, after all she's only going to be twenty in August. She's still young and has a bright career ahead of her. Relationships aren't everything. It's not like she has time for one anyways.

“You aren't doing some crazy internship or anything this summer are you? I want you there.”

“No, I'm not,” Nyota says, tracing the edge of the path with her shoe. “Well, I was thinking about it. I'm sending in my application to Starfleet today, and it would look really good if I did something like that off the bat, but I think I need a breather.”

“Good,” Eshe says, and Nyota can detect a note of relief in her voice. “Look, Nyota, I know we haven't always gotten along or anything, but I want my sisters to be my bridesmaids. I called Sanaa yesterday and I was going to call you yesterday too, but she said you had finals to turn it and stuff, so I figured I would wait.”

Nyota is surprised and also a little relieved that Eshe appears to be offering a measure of peace between them.

“Yeah, of course I’ll be your bridesmaid. I would be delighted to.” Delighted is a stretch, but Nyota has been faking enthusiasm for neurotypical conversations her entire life.

“Good,” Eshe says again.

They are silent for a moment before Eshe speaks.

“Are you going to bring a plus one?”

“Oh my god, Eshe. I rarely dip into profanity, but fuck off. I don't have a boyfriend or a partner of any kind. I literally do not have time or energy to have a significant other. I took six classes this spring, all of them worth 4 units. I barely had time to sleep and exercise. I ate while I did my homework every single day. Please leave me alone about having a boyfriend, or I will spend your entire wedding writing “I don't have a boyfriend” in every language I know all over my bridesmaid dress.”

Eshe doesn't say anything for three long breaths.

“I'm sorry, Nyota. I guess I've always teased you about that. I really should stop. I do want you in my wedding, and I did want to know if you were going to bring anyone. I'm sorry,” Eshe says again, and Nyota actually believes her this time.

“Okay, well, I need to finish my run and get a shower before I turn in my Starfleet application. Are you coming out with Mom and Dad for my graduation next week?”

“Um, to be honest, I was kind of on the fence about it. But Sanaa is going to be there, so I should too. It’ll be weird having the whole family together again. I guess we will be again pretty soon, but it's important that I come, I know.

More silence. Nyota is about to hang up when Eshe starts to say something.

“You know-” she starts.

“I'm going to-” Nyota stops, waiting to hear what her sister has to say.

“I'm really proud of you, Nyota. I couldn't have gotten a math degree, much less in three years. Starfleet is big, I know that. I just- I realized I had never told you how proud I am of you. I talk about my kid sister who's a super genius with languages and math all the time, but I never say it to your face. So there it is, Nyota. I'm really, really proud of all your hard work. I’ll let you go now, and I'll see you in a week.”

Nyota says “Bye, Eshe,” and then her sister hangs up on her before she can say thank you.

She finishes her run quickly, turning over their strange conversation in her head. She’s still thinking about it as she does her strength exercises. It feels really nice to know that Eshe actually cares about her. Maybe Nyota ought to try again with her. After all, they are going to be spending half the summer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory is done! I’m a firm believer in properly setting up a universe, even in original fiction, and because this is such a divergence from the “normal” Star Trek universe I felt like I needed to be very thorough fleshing out who this Nyota is, while trying to stick to canon as much as possible. I promise Spock is going to appear in the next chapter and he and Nyota are going to exchange words! Guaranteed! 
> 
> Trithak is a made up word, I just wanted an exclamation in Seshto, and there’s like no info on it so I took creative liberty. Also? Application process for Starfleet?? Who knows?? Time to make stuff up.
> 
> Profuse thanks to my wonderful beta LieutenantSaavik, who is helping me find all the grammar mistakes I miss!! 
> 
> Finals are next week I’m dying please leave me comments to help me through this pain


	4. the assurance of a complimentary vibration

Nyota checks her padd first thing in the morning on the day of her graduation. Turnaround is supposed to be fast for Starfleet applications, but the previous days of the week her inbox has remained empty of any communications from Starfleet Academy. She supposes a week is a little too fast and pulls on her running shoes. Her parents, Eshe, and Gabriel arrived yesterday and are staying at a hotel. Nyota moved most of her stuff from her dorm to Rebecca and Sanaa’s place over the week. She's going to be staying with them for another week before going back to Kenya for the summer. She just has to have all her stuff out of her dorm by 1500 today. 

There's her school bag in her desk chair, her communicator on her nightstand, and her blanket in a pile by her pillow. There are four pairs of earrings on Nyota’s desk, too. She couldn't decide which ones to wear with her graduation gown, which is a surprisingly nice shade of green. She can't help but wonder if cadets at Starfleet wear gowns or dress uniforms to their graduation. It's probably uniforms, she decides.

Nyota stands in the sonic for a little too long after her run, letting the jets pound at her shoulders. She finally steps out and gets dressed, feeling a little floaty. She checks her padd again after she puts her bra on. Still no acceptance letter.

She finally decides on the pair of earrings her mother got her for her seventeenth birthday the summer before she came to LPU. Nyota feels that they’re fitting.

She doesn't have to endure an awkward handshake for this graduation. Dean T’Surit offers the Vulcan salute when she hands out the students’ diplomas. Nyota is one of the last students whose name is called, one of the downsides of her last name. When her name is called, she walks evenly across the stage to accept the holoprint that is the result of all her hard work.

T’Surit says the customary greeting in Vulcan after the holoprint has left her hands, her tongue rolling out the smooth syllables effortlessly.

“ _ Sochya eh dif _ . Peace and long life,” Nyota replies, and receives a head nod of recognition from the dean.

There is a brief moment while the dean’s dark eyes attempt to meet Nyota’s, but Nyota lets her eyes slide to the dean’s high cheekbones. Eye contact is just not happening today, but she does her best to imitate it.

Nyota walks off the stage a little breathlessly. She’s finished. She did it. She has a degree and an acceptance letter coming from Starfleet. She walks to sit with her family, and Rebecca passes a sleeping Earl to her to hold.

Her parents are both crying, and Sanaa wipes away a tear or two of her own. Eshe just leans forward and smiles at her across Gabriel.

They all cram into Sanaa and Rebecca’s little house that night for  _ matoke _ , freshly made by Marjani and Sanaa. Nyota doesn’t check her padd until her father asks if she’s received her acceptance letter yet, too occupied monopolizing Earl to think about it.

She opens her inbox with shaky hands, still warm from Earl’s body.

“Congratulations, Cadet Uhura,” Nyota reads out loud.

Rebecca stops explaining Earl’s sleeping schedule to Marjani.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, Nyota. What did you say?”

Every eye in the room turns to Nyota.

“Congratulations, Cadet Uhura,” she reads the line of text again. “You have been selected to take entrance exams to Starfleet Academy. Exams will be held 2254.228 through 2254.232. Classes will start 2254.243. Arrive at the San Francisco Shuttleport by 0800 on the first day of entrance exams or you will be disqualified. An officer will be there to meet you.”

“That’s it?” Gabriel breaks the silence that falls after Nyota finishes speaking. “That’s all you get?”

Nyota looks over the message again.

“Yup, that’s it. I guess I’m going to spend my birthday trying to impress Starfleet officers.”

She looks up at her family, and they all seem a little confused.

“Look, I know Starfleet is hard to get into. I know for sure I’m going to do well on the physical fitness exams. I haven’t spent my mornings running and working out for nothing. I don’t feel like I’ll be inadequately prepared for these exams; I really don’t. I guess I just need to pack a little sooner than I thought I would have to. It’s not the end of the world.”

⋘⋙

Her week with Sanaa, Rebecca, and Earl is heaven. She only hates the one night where Earl decides to stay up the entire night and keep his moms and his aunt awake with him.

“Teething,” Rebecca grits out when she tries to nurse him.

Nyota starts reading a paper on the importance of living translators being available to the Federation in an era where translators are everywhere. She disagrees completely with the author’s theory that people will become completely obsolete in the whole process as computers become more and more advanced.

“There’s just something about talking to another sentient life form without a computer involved. Call it diplomacy,” she mutters into Earl’s hair.

⋘⋙

Nyota probably has too many padds full of books to be lugging to her parent’s house for the summer and then to the Academy this fall, but she isn’t going to get rid of them anytime soon. Many of them are language dictionaries that she thinks are invaluable resources, especially for a xenolinguistics student such as herself.

Nyota bids a tearful farewell to Sanaa, Rebecca, and Earl. She knows she’ll see them again for the wedding in a month, but after that she won’t be free until winter break.  _ Who knows what that will even be like _ , she thinks as she boards her shuttle.

Her room remains untouched since the last time she was here. There’s still a warp equation poster tacked to the front of her door and a sundress she forgot two summers ago lying on her bed. It’s strange to be here again, and for two and a half months at that.

Eshe bounces into her room with a smile on her face.

“Nyota, you have to help me decide which flowers to have for my wedding. We’re replicating them to save money, of course, but it would be nice to have some input.”

Nyota rolls her eyes and stands up from where she was sitting on her bed.  _ It’s going to be a long month until Eshe’s wedding _ , she thinks to herself.

⋘⋙

Eshe and Gabriel get married, finally. Nyota has to wear an itchy and entirely too pink bridesmaid dress, but she grits her teeth through it. She changes as soon as the ceremony is over, unwilling to make any further concessions for Eshe.

Some friend of Gabriel’s tries to dance with her, but she has to tell him she doesn’t do touching with people she doesn't know. He seems affronted, but Nyota is too tired to care.

Eshe is too busy dancing to notice when Nyota slips back to her parents’ house. She grabs her blanket from her bed and climbs onto the roof, barefooted and filled with the desire to be alone. She takes her communicator with her in case someone needs to find her, but she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.

She looks up at the stars and thinks of the day she will walk among them. Her hand rubs the corner of the time and touch-thinned synthetic fabric as she thinks. She traces the embroidery, the constellations that make up her night sky, and wishes for a safe journey for every starship above her head.

⋘⋙

Nyota stays in her room for most of the summer. She calls Sanaa on her holoscreen and listens to her talk about work and Earl’s milestones on the weekends. Her weeks are filled with papers and dissertations on xenolinguistics. Nyota Uhura does not intend to be ill-prepared for her field of study.

When August arrives, she begins to pack her belongings again. She will have her mother ship her extraneous items after entrance exams are over and she is settled in her dorm room. She realizes that she hasn’t thought about roommates in so long due to her accommodations at LPU and sends a message to the only ID she can find for housing.

She receives a terse message back.

Cadet Uhura, while we normally make every possible accommodation for disabilities, I regret to inform you that every single cadet entering the Academy is assigned a roommate. The housing department is careful to not place species that are at odds with each other together, but we do not make exceptions on this matter. We at the Academy feel it is a vital learning exercise to become used to another lifeform in your living quarters, as this is not unusual on starships. If you cite irreconcilable differences with your roommate, we will work to find a replacement as soon as we can. 

We look forward to you joining us here at Starfleet Academy,

Lieutenant Broadwise, Head of Student Housing.

Nyota wants to crawl inside herself and not think about this at all ever again. Not having her own space is going to maybe drive her crazy. She hopes for a roommate with an idea of staying on their side of the room and maybe even keeping to their own things. Maybe it’s a foolish hope, but she still wishes it nonetheless.

⋘⋙

She spends the entire shuttle flight to San Francisco reciting poetry in every language she knows that has a concept for it in an attempt to soothe her brain. It doesn’t work very well.

When she lands, there is an officer to meet her. There’s already a group of new cadets gathered around him. He’s tall and dark-skinned, and has an air of command about him. Nyota doesn’t think he takes bullshit from anyone.

He scrolls through a padd when she approaches.

“Name, Cadet?”

“Uhura,” she says, deciding her last name is all anyone needs to hear. That's all she's going to be addressed as for the rest of her life in Starfleet anyways.

“That's Uhura,  _ sir. _ Xenolinguistics, huh?”

The officer gives her small frame a onceover.

“You know there's physical requirements for this job, Cadet Uhura?”

Nyota stares at his left eyebrow.

“Yes, I do, sir. I'm adequately prepared.”

“Very well, Cadet. If you insist. Stand with everyone else. I'm expecting two more cadets and then we’re out of here.”

The two cadets take another half an hour to arrive. Nyota is propositioned by fellow cadets no fewer than four times, but her answer is always a tightly gritted out smile and a “No, thank you.”

When the remaining cadets arrive, the officer finally introduces himself.

“I'm Commander Green. We’re going to be boarding a bus to an undisclosed location, and as such, the windows will be blocked off. Does anyone here photosynthesize?”

No one raises an appendage or speaks, so the commander continues.

“Alright, that's sorted then. Now, once we arrive, you will be issued a uniform. If you pass your exams, you get to keep it and get some spares, as well as a dress uniform. If you don't pass, you will hand your uniform back in to us. You will receive all further instructions once you arrive.”

The cadets sit on a bus that does not have extra room. Nyota sits as tightly within her seat as she can, careful to avoid even her dress touching the occupant next to her.

She's an Orion, her green skin standing out against the purple of her skimpy outfit. Her hair is red and curly and she looks like she just stepped out of a holovid, her makeup is so perfect.

“Pardon me,” Nyota finds herself saying. “But don't Orion’s photosynthesize?”

The Orion turns to look at her. Nyota tries valiantly not to stare at her mostly naked body.

“We do, but we don't need to have constant contact with the sun, you know. We aren't plants.”

“Oh okay. I was just wondering why you didn't raise your hand when Commander Green asked.”

“Because I felt it was unnecessary. I'm Gaila. You're Uhura, yes?”

“Yes,” Nyota says, sliding into the Orion language. “What are you here for?”

Gaila raises her hand to her face in surprise.

“Engineering,” she whispers back in her native language, “but no one will believe me because I'm an Orion and they think I'm just here to sleep with everyone.”

“I don't think you are. You have to have do well in school to even be considered for the exams,” Nyota says, slipping back into Standard. 

“No,” Gaila says. “They think I slept with my advisors to receive my grades.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yes, but only after I did well in their classes.”

“Oh, okay,” Nyota says.

They don't really talk anymore after that, and Nyota almost falls asleep on the bus. The time difference might kill her if the entrance exams don’t.

The cadets file off the bus. There's a building in front of them and desert all around them. There are other buses that appear to be vomiting up cadets as well. Nyota scans the crowds, trying to see if she recognizes anyone. She doesn't, and it's a bit of a relief.

The cadets’ “further instructions” turn out to be “Put on your uniforms.” They have the option of pants or a skirt. Nyota wants the skirt, but not for the exams, so she takes a pair of red trousers from the stack of smalls. The jacket is nice, but it's warm out here, wherever here is. Nyota puts on the jacket over her undershirt anyways. She doesn't want to get in trouble for leaving off part of the uniform.

She’s glad of her decision when multiple cadets get yelled at for not having their jackets on. They get a speech on the importance of representing the Federation at all times. Nyota listens as intently as she can while sweat trickles down her back and lands in the waistband of her pants. She glances at the building that is perfectly cooled and apparently off limits. She remembers the brief moments she had inside to change and wishes that she could be in there again.

There's a row of officers standing off the to side while Commander Green gives his speech. They're all human, except for one of them. She can't see very well across the sea of cadets, but she can note the obvious point of his ears.

A woman who introduces herself as Commander Ling is in charge of the first exam, which is going to be conducted immediately. A collective groan ripples through the crowd, but Nyota stays silent. She's here to get top marks on another test, she tells herself. She does not back down from a challenge.

It's a run, the length of which is not disclosed, but Nyota saves her breath, sure that it can't be short. These examinations are meant to get rid of weaklings, and she may be a lot of things, but she is not weak. The heat is ridiculous, and all she wants is water. Several cadets collapse and are escorted back to the building, but Nyota focuses on the steady sound of her feet hitting the dusty ground in her new boots.

She hasn't neglected her workout routine this summer. She actually intensified it, and yet even she is out of breath when Commander Ling calls a halt. The cadets have looped back and the building isn't too far off.

However, before the cadets are relieved to get water and cool down, the Commander gives a speech on the importance of physical strength if attacked, whether on an enemy planet or a starship.

Nyota forces herself to breathe more evenly as she walks back. Gaila jogs up next to her, smiling.

“You humans and your sweat,” she says, her skin still perfectly matte.

Nyota wipes sweat from her eyebrows and thanks cosmetic companies for the thousandth time for making sweat proof eyeliner.

It's painfully obvious which cadets failed the physical examination, but Nyota attempts to ignore them.  _ It's their problem if they didn't prepare _ , she tells herself and drinks her water slowly.

The cadets have been allowed into the building, but they're standing in the foyer, and Nyota is curious about the rest of the building. They are directed to a mess hall for a meal and informed by Commander Green that there will be no more exams today. Nyota stares at the line of food available and panics. Too many options. Way too many options. She sees the salads and breathes a sigh of relief. Salads are safe.

Nyota picks a table at the back of the hall, intent on being alone. Gaila plops down across from her, though. The Orion’s tray is piled high with some orange goop that she explains is the flavored protein all Orions subsist off of.

“It helps with production of pheromones,” Gaila says.

Nyota stabs a tomato and pops it in her mouth, watching the way the Orion spoons the food into her mouth.

“Does it even taste good?”

“Yes,” Gaila says, and returns to eating.

“I’m in for xenolinguistics,” Nyota offers. She knows she has to make at least one friend in the Academy. There's no Sanaa here to keep her company, and she needs someone. The Orion seems as good as anyone, and doesn't seem to be intrusive so far.

“I figured. Command track students don’t usually speak more than Standard and whatever language they take as a requirement at the Academy.”

Nyota is curious about Gaila’s choice of words.

“You've met command track students before?”

“Yes. They were very good in bed but not much to talk to.” Gaila doesn't say anything else, appearing to wait for Nyota to say something.

“Oh, okay. Have you lived in San Francisco for a while, then?”

“You aren't going to make a comment about me sleeping with everyone?”

“Why would I do that? It's none of my business.” Nyota eats a forkful of lettuce and repeats her earlier question. “Have you lived in San Francisco long?”

“You're the first person I've met here who didn't make a comment on my sexual history. Thank you. And yes, I've lived in San Francisco for three years now.”

“Neat,” Nyota says, cleaning up the last bit of her salad dressing with a cucumber. “I'm from Kenya, but I spent the last three years in London getting my degree.”

It's a good topic, she knows. School is safe and not oversharing.

“I believe you humans like to say something like ‘cool’ here. However, the temperature of the room is a little warm with so many people in it and I don't understand why you use such a word.”

Nyota likes that Gaila doesn't blink about the shortened time of her degree. She thinks maybe they’ll get along quite well.

“The term is used generally as an antithesis to red hot with anger. Cool means that the situation isn't generally full of any strong emotions, but if there are strong emotions, they're positive.”

“You're the first person who's taken time to explain that to me,” Gaila says, smiling. “Uhura, I like you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nyota says quietly. “You can call me Nyota, if you like. I just- I’m a private person, okay? So don’t go spreading my name around.”

“Understandable.” Gaila smiles at her, her teeth stained slightly orange.

Sleeping quarters are cramped, but it seems at least for now the cadets will not be forced to share space. This means that they sleep in small rooms barely large enough to fit a bed in. Nyota pulls her blanket out of her bag and changes into her nightgown quickly. She's tired, emotionally and physically, and she falls asleep with little trouble despite the unfamiliar environment.

⋘⋙

The next morning, the cadets are split into the track they're planning on following. Five officers are standing behind Commander Green after breakfast. One of them is the Vulcan that Nyota spotted briefly yesterday. He's quite handsome, she realizes as she studies the stiffness of his shoulders and slanted brows. She tries not to stare at him for too long. She knows that Vulcans are betrothed at the age of seven and he is more than likely completely unavailable. Still, she can’t help but steal glances from across the room.

Gaila bids Nyota a happy farewell as she files off with the engineering students and Nyota raises her hand to wave. She joins the group of xenolinguistics students by the door. They were informed that their proctor would be along shortly. However, ten minutes tick by before Commander Green appears.

“Your proctor was only supposed to be detained, but he is unable to come. We know it’s an inconvenience, but a new proctor will be assigned shortly. There is the possibility you will have to wait until one of the other exams is finished so the proctor will be free. We will inform you all of the course of action that will be taken in a minute or two.”

Nyota sighs and twirls her finger through her ponytail, stares at her chipped nail polish, and wishes that she could just go on a run right now. She will have time later, she is sure, even if it isn’t until this evening. Her legs need to move.

It’s another ten minutes before Commander Green appears again.

“Cadets, your exam has been postponed until the computer science exam is finished, which will be an hour at the earliest. Commander Spock, who is conducting the computer science exam, is available to administer the xenolinguistics exam. You will receive a notification on your padd ten minutes before your exam will start. You will be directed here and Commander Spock will escort you to your exam room at that time. You are dismissed until then.”

Nyota is a little disappointed she can’t sink her teeth into her exam for another bit, but she has a free hour. She decides to go on a run in the time allotted. Several cadets whistle at her in her running shorts but she smoothly flips them off and starts a loop around the outside of the building. She figures it will take at least twenty laps before she approaches her normal run time. The building is large despite her limited exploration of it.  _ Faculty probably gets huge quarters _ , Nyota thinks bitterly as the dust rises around her feet.

She is sweating profusely by the time she finishes, so she returns to the cool air of the lobby to do her pushups and situps. Her room is too tiny to do these exercises, regrettably. The same cadets stare at her as her muscles flex and one or two of them even drop to do pushups in some attempt to enforce their masculinity. It takes every ounce of Nyota’s concentration to not roll her eyes.

She has time for a brief shower, so she steps into the sonic before dressing in her uniform again. Her padd has one new message, but it’s only pictures of Eshe and Gabriel’s new house. Nyota flicks through them quickly and sighs. Eshe extending the wand of peace means pictures of replicators and tables apparently. It’s at the exact moment she is about to break her padd in half at Eshe’s explanations of furniture design that her inbox notifies her that she has a new message.

The subject line says, “Your examination will begin in ten minutes.” The entire body of the message reads, “If you do not appear in the assembly hall within those ten minutes, you will be disqualified. Punctuality is an essential trait of a Starfleet officer. Commander Spock.”

Nyota’s stomach flips when she walks into the assembly hall and sees that Commander Spock is the Vulcan commander she was staring at earlier. She picks at her nail polish, flakes of black disappearing into the dark carpet. Standing closer to him doesn’t make him less handsome, and it’s a problem. She has an exam in a few minutes, and she doesn’t want to be distracted.

The commander is on his padd and appears to be reading something. He does not engage in any conversation with the cadets. He looks up only when it’s time to leave.

“Everyone who will be taking the exam has arrived,” he says succinctly. “We will proceed to the examination room now.”

Commander Spock turns on his heel and leads the cadets out into the lobby and down a hall. They pass several closed doors before he stops in front of one and unlocks it.

The room is just lines of desks with a padd at every seat. Nyota picks one in the second row from the front after a second’s hesitation.

The commander delivers a succinct speech as the remainder of the cadets file in the room. 

“You may begin as soon as you sit down, cadets. You will be shut out of your padd when the exam is finished. I will not accept any questions. If you are unsure of the phrasing of a question, that is not the fault of your proctor, nor is it my responsibility to clarify any question for you. When you are finished, deposit your padd on my desk. You are then free to spend your time however you desire. It is customary to wish you luck at this point in time. However, the concept of luck is illogical. I will instead offer this: I believe the majority of you are perfectly capable of performing well on this exam.”

Nyota watches him sit stiffly in his seat, but quickly looks down at the padd in front of her as he begins to scan the classroom.

The padd blinks on when she touches it and a field prompts her to enter her name. The first question isn’t even a question. It’s just a list of languages with check boxes next to them. There aren’t even directions, so Nyota does the logical thing and checks the box next to every single language she knows. The next question is posed in Klingon and she is expected to reply in it as well.

The exam seems to extend for hours, and Nyota’s stomach is threatening to growl by the time she finishes the last question and the padd blinks a line of text at her.

“Thank you for taking the Starfleet Academy Xenolinguistics Entrance Exam, Nyota Uhura.”

Nyota’s palms are sweaty, and she feels certain she made a mistake on that question in Lesser Andorian halfway through. She wipes her palms on her skirt and picks up her padd. She walks with her head held high to the front of the rooms and deposits it in front of Commander Spock.

She isn’t the first to finish. There’s a dozen or so padds lying in a stack already, but she was so engrossed in the exam she hadn't heard the cadets stand up and leave. Nyota starts a new stack, lining the edge of her padd up neatly with the edge of the desk. Commander Spock’s eyes flit to her for a few seconds, focusing on the small movements of her hands. She catches him at it when she looks up a moment before her hands drop from from the padd. The commander nods almost imperceptibly at her when he notices her gaze, just a slight inclination of his head. 

The line of hair across his forehead is perfectly straight, forming a clean contrast to his slanted brows, two thin lines of coal on his forehead. The points of his ears are the faintest shade of green, the capillaries close to the surface of his skin, and Nyota wants to touch them. She berates herself silently on cultural sensitivity and forces herself to speak.

“ _ Diftor heh smusma _ , Commander,” Nyota says after the brief moment of studying him, her voice just above a whisper so as not to disturb the remaining students. She raises her right hand in the traditional Vulcan salute, the  _ ta’al _ .

Commander Spock’s right eyebrow twitches upward slightly before returning the gesture.

“ _ Sochya eh dif _ , Cadet.”

Nyota turns and walks out of the room, her hands shaking slightly. Maybe she imagined it, but she’s sure she felt something electric between her and the commander in their moment of interaction. The brief second she met his eyes wasn’t quite as uncomfortable other times she’s looked into people’s eyes. They were such a deep, rich shade of brown she almost didn’t look away. In addition to his good looks, there’s just something so unflappable, so calm and collected about the way he holds himself that only adds to her attraction.

It’s stupid, she knows. They have exchanged exactly six words and she hasn’t even been accepted to the Academy yet. Besides, half the cadets are probably already tripping all over themselves to get to him even if he isn’t betrothed or married.  _ Be rational, Nyota _ , she admonishes herself.

⋘⋙

Nyota’s birthday is the next day, and she walks outside with her salad at lunchtime to call Sanaa. She isn’t sure Sanaa is going to answer, due to the late hour in London. It takes a minute for Sanaa to pick up, so Nyota is crunching on a piece of carrot when Sanaa’s voice makes an appearance.

“Oh, hello, Nyota. I tried calling you earlier, but you must have been in exams. Mom and Dad said they were going to send you some pre-recorded message or something, so look out for that in your inbox. You didn’t wake me, so don’t worry. It’s just my turn to stay up with Earl in this joyful teething adventure. I swear, he can take a hypo full of pain meds and still refuse to be put down for sleep. Modern medicine doesn’t mean anything to babies. I mean, I know he’s not a baby. He turned one, but he’s still little, you know?”

“Hello to you too, Sanaa. Exams are going well, thanks. At least I think. They aren’t telling us until the last day whether we passed or not which is not fun. I want to know exactly how I scored on every single one of my exams. Anyways, my birthday is going as well as can be expected in the situation. We’re in the middle of the desert, some undisclosed location. There’s literally just a building, some cars, the buses that brought us here, and desert for miles around. I met this lady named Gaila, though. She seems nice.”

“Good for you, Nyota. I’m happy that you met someone. I’m glad you’re holding up okay.”

Nyota hears her sister shift her position and the quiet sound of Earl yawning.

“I can’t believe you’re twenty now. Welcome to the starting to feel old crowd. You can’t call yourself a kid anymore, even though you’ll always be my baby sister.”

“Thanks, Sanaa. I really want to be reminded of being the baby every chance I get. It’s my favorite thing about my family,” Nyota says as sarcastically as she can manage with a mouthful of lettuce.

⋘⋙

There’s only one more day of testing left, she thinks as she slides into her bed that night. Then it’s off to Starfleet Academy. One step closer to the stars. There’s a desperation in her that she’s never felt about tests before. Tests are easy. She remembers information and performs well. But these tests define everything she wants for the rest of her life, and not knowing is eating at her.

Something else is nagging her: Commander Spock’s quiet and unobtrusive presence. She finds herself studying the way he sits while Commander Green gives instructions. His back doesn’t even touch his chair. He sits ramrod straight and stares directly ahead until he is free to exit. Nyota also notices that he doesn’t talk to the other officers, who seem to have an easy familiarity with each other. She notices too much about him, she knows, and she really needs to stop. But the commander is just so good-looking that she can’t. Besides, she doesn’t really want to.

⋘⋙

The last day there isn’t even an exam. Commander Green thanks the cadets for their time and starts reading off names from a padd. His voice might as well be Vulcan, for how little inflection he has while he reads. Nyota’s eyes flit to Commander Spock for a second and back to Commander Green. Her name isn’t called, and she is confused for a minute until the list is explained.

“Those whose names I just called received insufficient scores on their exams and will not be attending Starfleet Academy this year. There is a bus outside that will take you back to the shuttleport. You are welcome to take entrance exams again next year, but you are forewarned that the material changes every year. Do not attempt to memorize the tests, because it will do you no good.”

The commander waits as a portion of students stand awkwardly and march out, not looking at their peers.

“Congratulations to the rest of you. You have been accepted into Starfleet Academy, class of 2258. You will be transported to the Academy by bus, where you will receive more clothing items and your room assignment. Appointments will be made with academic advisors over the next week, so check your inbox often. If you wish to see your individual scores on each exam, they are on your file and will be made available to you upon request.”

Nyota wants to jump for joy. Instead, she makes her way through the crush of students as easily as she can while touching as few of them as possible. She locks herself in a stall in the bathroom and flaps for thirty seconds before composing herself and walking out again. She finds Commander Green standing in the assembly hall, talking to Commander Ling while the other officers stand around chatting.

“Excuse me, sir,” Nyota says. She fights to keep the joy from her voice in an attempt to remain professional, but she knows her whole face is smiling.

“Cadet, just a moment please,” Commander Green says, barely glancing at her.

Nyota waits a minute before Commander Ling walks away and says something to Commander Spock. She’s not sure, but there’s a twitch in his hand as he brings it around to meet the other one behind his back that could read as irritation.

“Now, Cadet, what can I do for you?”

Nyota forces her gaze back to the commander standing in front of her.

“I would like to see my exam scores, sir,” she says firmly. Her smile has slipped only a little bit, the happiness leaking out no matter how hard she tries.

“Which ones?”

The commander is reaching for his padd and typing in a password as he asks her.

“My name is Cadet Uhura, sir. And all of them.”

Commander Green looks up at her. “I remember you, Cadet. All of your scores? Most cadets only want to see their individualized tests in the field they applied to.”

“Yes sir, all of them,” Nyota insists, some of the joy draining from her. She strives for excellence in all things, and being asked repeatedly if she knows what she wants makes her want to scream.

_ Of course I know what I want, Commander Green. Now pull up  _ all _ my test results before I shove that padd up your ass! _

Nyota stops yelling inside her head when she remembers that article she read forever ago about the theory that Vulcans were telepathic at short distances, not just with touch. She does not want Commander Spock inside her head. She would absolutely die of embarassment if the Vulcan knew the thoughts she had about him.

Commander Green hands the padd to her, and she takes it, trying to clear her thoughts of Commander Spock. Nyota quickly scans the too thin information. There isn’t a list of the things that caused her to lose points, just her scores for each exam. She is a little shocked to see she scored a hundred and two points out of a hundred on the xenolinguistics exam. Nyota wasn’t aware of any extra credit questions, and she had been so sure she had missed that one in Lesser Andorian. Her lowest score is a 93, but it’s on the physical, so she isn’t too worried about it.

_ Probably all my sweat that made me lose points _ , she thinks as she scrolls to the bottom of the document. There’s two sentences after the names of the exams and scores and Nyota can’t help but read them.

_ Nyota Uhura demonstrates an unparalleled talent for languages. It would be wise to keep an eye on her as she progresses through the Academy. _

Nyota looks up from the padd to Commander Green as she blushes furiously.

“You really think that- that I’m unparalleled?”

She doesn’t want there to be uncertainty in her voice, especially not with the other commanders standing nearby.  _ Especially not with Commander Spock nearby, you mean _ , her subconscious whispers and she tries not to look at the Vulcan at that moment.

But she does, and he is watching her. All the commanders are.

“Cadet Uhura, we do not place misinformed opinions on the official record. Do you have any further questions?” Commander Green is staring at her intensely.

“No sir. Thank you,” Nyota says, all in a rush. She hands the padd back to Commander Green, walking past the commanders and out the room. 

She knows without looking up that he is still watching her. She feels like a fool. She shouldn’t have said anything, just taken the incredibly high praise and held it close to her chest. But she did, and she blushed like an idiot, and he was watching her.

⋘⋙

Gaila asks her excitedly if she saw exactly how well she did on the exams, and Nyota replies that she did better than she expected, still on a high from those two sentences.

“Uhura,” Gaila asks. “Did you just have sex? You look like you’ve just had the best orgasm of your entire life.”

Nyota blushes deeply and looks around at the other cadets on the bus. “God, no,” she says. “There was a note at the end of my scores that said I ‘demonstrated an unparalleled talent for languages.’ I am supremely happy right now.”

Gaila studies her intently. “My note just said I tended to cut corners but I showed significant promise. Are you sure you didn’t even masturbate?”

“Gaila,” Nyota hisses. “I did not. Now stop yelling about that stuff on a bus full of strangers.”

The Orion looks at her inquisitively. “That stuff? You mean sex? Sex isn’t private information, Uhura.”

“For me it is,” Nyota declares firmly. “I don’t care that it isn’t for you, I just would prefer we have this conversation when there aren’t so many other ears listening.”

“Alright,” Gaila says. “But I’ve had sex with half the lifeforms with ears here, so I don’t think they would mind.”

“Okay,” Nyota says faintly. The idea of having that much sex with so many people she doesn’t even know is so foreign to her she can barely comprehend it. However, she knows that she has no right to judge Gaila. Just because it’s not her cup of tea doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be someone else’s.

It’s dark when they arrive at the Academy, but there’s someone with a padd to meet them. She introduces herself as Lieutenant Broadwise, and Nyota narrows her eyes slightly in recognition. Name after name are called in pairs, and Nyota nearly crumples in relief when Gaila’s name is called with hers. They have to wait a minute to get their room number, but Nyota’s happiness buoys her through her exhaustion. When they get their number, Gaila follows Nyota inside the doors of the building. They’re both silent on the turbolift, but Gaila squeals when they open the door of their shared space for the next four years.

“Nyota, I’m so excited! Ten days until classes start! A whole new place with so many people to have sex with!”

Nyota sighs as she sets her bag down on her bed. Gaila throws hers at her bed, misses and hits the floor. There are three bras spilling out and two thongs already on the floor. This is going to be interesting.

Nyota sighs.

“Gaila, I think we need to set some ground rules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the majority of this chapter in one day and when I went back to edit it I was pleasantly surprised by how okay I was with the way I wrote it. I wasn’t originally planning to have Spock and Nyota meet like that but when I’m in a writing coma I don’t question it.
> 
> I just finished my last final! There will be a new chapter up Sunday or Monday now that school is done and another one a week from today! Two a week!! You should be glad I’m not dragging this out all summer and making you wait lol
> 
> A tremendous thank you to LieutenantSaavik, my wonderful beta!!!


	5. the person i am tonight

After a day spent in negotiations, Nyota and Gaila have an agreement. Gaila is as non-judgemental as Nyota thought she would be about her special needs, but she plans on having a lot of sex and as such, needs her own accommodations. Nyota being herself, she writes their rules on a sheet of holofilm and tacks it to the back of the door.

_ One: Gaila can bring whoever she wants back to their room, but she is required to warn Nyota so she can clear out to the library or a lab. _

“You are not a threesome person. I could tell that already,” Gaila says knowingly.

Nyota nods. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Gaila’s curls hit her face she shakes her head so hard. “I think if I used my pheromones on you, you would be a threesome person, but I respect you enough to not do that.”

“Thanks,” Nyota says drily, and taps her stylus on her leg.

_ Two: Do not touch Nyota’s belongings. Especially not her blanket. _

“It’s one of the most important things I own,” Nyota says, and there’s a fierceness in her eyes that Gaila acknowledges.

_ Three: Each person’s stuff on their side of the room. _

“If you need, we can tape a line down the middle,” Gaila offers, and Nyota is pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Gaila; that would be nice. Do you know where we can get some around here? I need to walk around campus and familiarize myself with everything, so I have no clue even what’s off campus and what’s readily available.”

“I know someone; don’t worry,” Gaila says a little dreamily.

She hands Nyota the tape the next day. “No fluids on it,” she says, a note of accomplishment in her voice.

Nyota tries not to roll her eyes. “Thank you for that consideration.”

_ Four: Nyota will answer any cultural question Gaila has, no matter how sexual it is. _

“I’m going to regret this,” she mutters as she writes it in crisp letters on the holofilm.

Gaila squeals and goes to hug Nyota before quickly withdrawing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gaila says. “Not touching is hard for me.”

“I might be okay with you touching me sometimes, okay? Just- ask before. I will definitively not be okay with touching if I can’t see it coming.”

“Okay,” Gaila says, and that’s it. Nyota wants to cry, she’s so relieved that she has such an understanding roommate.

_ Five: Minimal nudity inside the room is allowed. _

“You’ll want to look at my breasts anyways,” Gaila says triumphantly.

“I don’t think I will,” Nyota says. “I don’t-I’m not into women.”

“You would be surprised how many women say that after they’ve had a thoroughly good time with me.”

“I mean it, though. Besides, I’m not into casual sex, like at all.”

Gaila shrugs. “Your loss.”

⋘⋙

Nyota decides to knock out two birds with one stone and take her run through the campus. It’s empty for the most part, and Nyota remembers that the returning cadets won’t arrive for another couple of days. She sees a few officers who must be teachers, and her heartbeat pounds loudly in her ears every time she approaches one of them. None of them are Commander Spock, however, so her quick glances as she runs by are met with a small note of disappointment.

It’s a beautiful day in San Francisco. The sun is warm but there’s a cool breeze coming off the ocean that feels glorious as Nyota starts to work up a sweat. She’s hungry, but she would rather wait to eat until after she’s exercised, so she pushes past the desire for food and lets her legs do their work.

Nyota sees the xenolinguistics building out of the corner of her eye and makes a mental note of where it is. It’s blessedly not too far from the dorms, which means she won’t have to haul her school bag all the way across campus every single day. Unless of course, there are classes all incoming cadets must take that are in the buildings she didn’t pay a lot of attention to on the other side of campus. She does her stretches on the steps up to the dorm, the stone warm beneath her muscles.

At LPU, the math building was directly opposite the dorms and Nyota had to carry all her padds across the length of the campus each day. It was tedious and annoying, but she supposed it counted as part of her workout regime. As she pumps out her pushups on the steps, two green legs appear in her field of vision.

“You should have lots of sex and you won’t need to run so much,” Gaila says, watching drops of sweat hit the sandstone beneath Nyota’s forehead. “I’ve heard more than one human say that ‘it’s good cardio.’ What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Nyota grits out as her arms raise her perfectly flat body upwards, “that the heart is part,” she lets her breath out through her teeth as she lowers her body, “of the cardiovascular system.”

Two more pushups left. She really ought to just make Gaila wait until she’s finished with her set, but she likes the joy Gaila expresses when she learns a new human expression.

Up again. 

“The cardiovascular system is-” 

Down again. 

“-the heart, lungs, and circulatory systems.” 

Up.

“Oxygen absorbing into the blood and so on.” 

Down.

Nyota almost collapses onto the step, but forces herself to roll over and sit up. She looks up at Gaila, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

“Basically,” she says, trying to regulate her breathing. She still has squats and lunges to do, but it won’t hurt to take a minute break. “Exercise makes your heart more accustomed to situations of exertion, which you know already. We humans just have a tendency to abbreviate long words into weird sayings, so we say ‘it’s good cardio’ instead of ‘it’s good for my cardiovascular system.’”

Gaila nods. “Humans are weird. Anyways, I’m off to see my academic advisor. Check your padd. They sent out appointment times.”

Gaila runs down the remaining steps, her hair bouncing against her back. The two shades of red matched with Gaila’s skin make Nyota think of Christmas, and she hopes she can make it home this year for that holiday. At least to Sanaa and Rebecca, if not her parents and Eshe. She thinks Eshe and Gabriel are going to move off-planet, though. They were discussing it before they got married even, and Nyota was surprised they decided to just get a bigger place in Nairobi after the wedding.

Nyota misses Earl. He was babbling “mama” when she left, and she wonders if any other small words have been added to his vocabulary since then. She stares blankly at Gaila’s disappearing form before she realizes what she needs to do. Nyota needs to get more uniforms, and the ones with skirts, too. She finishes her lunges and decides to check her padd for information about the rest of her clothing she’s supposed to receive as a cadet. There’s probably some administrative building that she needs to go to. Nyota groans halfway through a squat at the thought she might have to go to HQ, which she knows is a bit of a walk.

She enters her room and toes a thong back over the tape line.  _ Shower _ , she thinks. The sonics are a normal end to her workout routine, but maybe it’s the stress of exams the past few days that causes them to feel a little too rough. Nyota washes in a hurry and gets dressed in her uniform. She picks out a pair of earrings and puts them on while she checks her inbox.

Three new messages. One is from Sanaa and is full of pictures of Earl chasing their cat as fast as he can crawl. Nyota smiles and flips through them quickly. The other two are from Starfleet Academy. She does have to go to an administrative building to get the rest of her gear, but it’s not HQ, so she breathes a sigh of relief.

Nyota’s appointment with an academic advisor is tomorrow at noon, so she decides to go have lunch and find the place she’s supposed to get her clothing from.

Gaila makes an appearance in the mess hall just as Nyota is finishing her salad. The Orion’s hair looks like flame in the light coming through the windows as she approaches her roommate.

“I’m off to get my spare uniforms and such,” Nyota says, standing up.

“I’m taking five courses,” Gaila replies and walks with her to the trash receptacle. “I think I’m going to dislike all of them except for the ones that actually have to do with engineering. It’s stupid that I have to take these courses that are going to do me no good at all. Will Interspecies Ethics really be useful when I’m taking apart a warp core?”

“Yes,” Nyota says thoughtfully. “I can guarantee that you’ll have colleagues of a different species who will be dissembling that warp core with you. Anyways, you need my comm number. Let me know if you’re bringing someone back tonight and I’ll take my padd to the library.”

They exchange numbers and Gaila goes to get her neon goop while Nyota heads in the direction of the admin buildings.

There’s a fellow cadet inside to distribute her effects, who appears incredibly bored. She doesn’t offer a name, just says in something bordering on hostility, “Pants or skirts?”

“Skirts, please. I’m a small.”

Nyota gets three more red uniforms and a grey one that must be her dress uniform. The cadet plops a gray shirt with  _ Starfleet Academy _ on the front and  _ Class of 2258 _ on the back. Nyota also receives a pair of sweatpants with  _ Starfleet Academy _ printed down the right leg and four black undershirts.

“If and when you serve on a ship,” the cadet drones out, “You will receive active duty uniforms. Until that point, this is all you’re getting. If you lose a part of your uniform, you are required to pay for a replacement. If you stain it, rip a hole in it, or damage it in any way, you are required to pay for a replacement. Welcome to Starfleet, Cadet.”

Nyota thanks the cadet and carries her pile of clothing to her dorm room. She really needs to talk to her parents about getting her things shipped here, but it’s the middle of the night in Nairobi, so she leaves a message on Marjani’s communicator. She also needs to get a job. Her parents supplied her with a small allowance while she was at LPU, but Nyota doesn’t want to take her parents’ money any longer. She’s twenty years old now and a cadet in Starfleet. She knows there are plenty of cadets here who are still on their parents money, and that she will receive some negligible amount of credits from the Academy for attendance. It’s one of their selling points: Get paid to go to space! Nyota read the fine print, though, and she knows how few credits cadets actually receive.

She can probably land a job in the linguistics lab here. That seems like a viable option, due to her high proficiency in Federation languages. Nyota spends the evening scrolling through jobs available on campus for cadets and leaves the application up for her to complete in the morning when she has more energy.

The next day, Gaila joins her on her run and subsequent exercises, and Nyota actually doesn’t mind the company, even though she’s always preferred to be alone. Maybe it’s just been force of habit, though, because the loneliness in her chest eases a little with Gaila’s bright laughter, even if her roommate’s inability to sweat pisses her off.

Nyota likes the color red of her uniform, she decides, as she gets dressed for her appointment with her academic advisor. She wishes her skirt were an inch longer, but it’s not the end of the world. She’s going to be sitting in class the majority of the time she’s in uniform, so it’s not like it matters that much anyways.

Her academic advisor is Trill, and it’s been six years since Nyota learned the language, so it takes her a moment to bring it to the front of her mind. She still manages to recall the proper greeting, pronouncing it flawlessly. She is accustomed by now to the surprise non-Terrans show at being greeted in their language instead of Standard.

Lieutenant Riv asks her where she learned the language, managing to look inquisitive with a tilt of his head even though his eyes are trained on Nyota’s hands.

“I taught myself, sir.” 

“It’s good to show aptitude for your chosen field,” the lieutenant says. “There’s a basic set of classes all cadets are required to take, as you might already know. What’s your undergraduate degree in?”

“Math.”

“Wanting to work on translators, then?”

“I have plans to work on a starship. In what capacity, I am unsure. I haven’t had a significant amount of spare time in which to make that decision. I did my math degree in three years instead of four.”

Nyota tugs her skirt down her legs slightly. She hates admitting her uncertainty, when she has always been so certain. It’s annoying, really, but the honesty rolls off her tongue before she can stop it sometimes.

“Well, Cadet Uhura, let’s see what we can do for you.”

After twenty minutes, she has to tell the lieutenant that she won’t need a few prerequisites, and if he doubts her, to look at her exam scores. He does, and immediately apologizes. Nyota leaves his office with her head held high.

The Academy only offers one language that she isn’t completely proficient in, Cardassian, but she doesn’t need the first course, so she takes a randomly selected final exam for Beginning Cardassian that was in the system in Lieutenant Riv’s office. Nyota is not surprised when she receives a perfect score on the exam. She doesn’t forget what she learns. The only reason she never progressed farther in Cardassian because she was in her last year of her degree and had no time for anything except math. She’s excited to learn more, even if it’s at the slow pace that her teacher will take it.

_ Intermediate Cardassian should be fun _ , she thinks as she walks through the quiet corridors of the admin building. Her test scores were high enough she’s taking Intermediate Phonology and Intermediate Morphology, and the Lieutenant assured her she will have no problem getting that job in the linguistics lab. There’s no way around taking Interspecies Ethics, though. It’s required for every first-year at the Academy. 

Someone is approaching from the other end of the hall, and Nyota prepares herself to nod in passing, but as the figure draws closer and she examines the set of his shoulders and notices the point of his ears, her heart feels like it’s climbed into her throat.

_ Nyota Uhura, you know both spoken dialects of his native language. Say something courteous. Use Standard, even, but say something! _

She can’t force the even syllables from her tongue, no matter how hard she tries. She finds herself slowing and clutching her padd tighter to her chest as he approaches. Maybe she’s hoping he’ll say something to broach her silence, but it’s really stupid honestly. The commander has nothing to say to her, just like she has nothing to say to him.

The commander slows slightly as well when he passes her, and Nyota is watching him far too carefully to not notice the way his eyes flit to her briefly. There’s a slight breeze as they pass and the sensation of time slowing down slightly as she notices the way he holds his own padd close to his body in his left hand. She registers the faint dusting of hair on his knuckles and the sound of his soft exhale before she forces her head forward. She cannot turn to watch the commander proceed down the hall. It’s rude, and she isn’t a teenager anymore. 

Nyota immediately regrets not acknowledging him or even just saying, “Sir,” in passing, but she lets her arms fall to swing at her sides and her fingers loosen from the edge of her padd after they’ve passed each other. 

She does turn her head to watch him proceed down the hall finally, but he’s disappeared, probably into an office. There’s a fleeting moment where she thinks that she doesn’t know whether the commander has a nice ass or not and a sigh of disappointment leaves her lips as she enters the sunlight. She really should have turned around sooner.

⋘⋙

Her parents promise that her birthday present and her belongings should be arriving within a couple days. Kibwe signs the message, even though it’s sent from Marjani’s inbox, and Nyota touches the stiff lines of her father’s writing on her padd’s screen. She misses him more than her mother, and she hates that she does. Marjani and her never really got along. She just always wanted to touch Nyota at the moments she least wanted to be touched and talk about things Nyota never wanted to talk about. There was also the million little ways she made her daughter feel as though she was unlovable for her autistic traits.

Gaila tromps in and flops on her bed and Nyota quickly pretends to be absorbed in her parents’ too short message.

“I’ve gone out these past couple of nights to have sex out of deference for your early bedtime, but I’m going to bring someone back tomorrow night probably. You’ve been warned.”

Nyota nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her face. “Thank you,” she says, even though she knows it’s unnecessary.

“You don’t have to thank me; I’m just following the roommate rules,” Gaila says, and pulls her skirt off.

“I know,” Nyota says, “but it’s a thing humans do to be nice. I don’t know. It’s just a habit I have.”

“Okay,” Gaila says, and drops her bra on the floor. “The longer I’ve been around humans, the weirder I think you all are.”

Nyota stares at Gaila’s face carefully. “Underwear on,” Nyota says, but Gaila only wears thongs, so wearing underwear means virtually nothing.

⋘⋙

There’s three boxes outside her door the day before class starts and she almost trips over them on her way out the door to go on her morning run. Nyota hauls them inside and dumps them on her bed. It’s mostly books, she knows. She can deal with them when she gets back from exercising.

There are a lot more cadets on campus now, as well as officers. Nyota has to dodge around groups of them as she runs, but she manages to get a good workout in. She takes her stretches and body exercises inside, though. She doesn’t particularly feel like getting stared at today.

Nyota finishes the last little bit of pre-class reading she has to do. Commander Spock is going to be teaching her Interspecies Ethics class at 0900 hours, and she’s antsy about it. It’s not that she wants an excuse to stare at him or anything, but she wants an excuse to stare at him. She has, for once in her lifetime, doubts in her ability to pay complete attention to the lecture material.

Gaila comes in late, so she sits in the back instead of next to Nyota while Commander Spock goes over the syllabus. She sends no less than five messages to Nyota about how hot the commander is, but she does the same thing for every one of her classes, so Nyota ignores them all. Of course the commander is the kind of professor to actually start the course material on the first day, but Nyota finds the subject matter fascinating. 

She pays close attention to not only what he says, but the way he says it. There is some cadence to his words if she pays close attention, and she wonders if it’s the result of years in mostly human company or something else. His tone for the most part though, is crisp and formal, even when she raises her hand to ask a question.

His gaze seems to bore right through her, but Nyota is not intimidated. She’s had a Vulcan teacher before and knows the looks they give, as if humans are supposed to wither into their seats when they raise their hands.

“Sir, would Hessler’s Theory of First Contact be less relevant if Terrans had made contact with a non-peaceful planet first?”

The Commander raises his eyebrow slightly, a movement she notices only because she is sitting in the first row.

“It’s highly probable, Cadet, but that is not the way it happened, so Hessler’s theory remains highly relevant.”

Nyota is not about to back down even though the commander has already started to look away from her.

“If Hessler’s theory had been developed when dealing with violent off-worlders, how do you think the field of Interspecies Ethics would have evolved differently?”

Commander Spock’s eyes are on her again.

“A titillating question, Cadet Uhura. Does anyone wish to offer an answer to Cadet Uhura’s question?”

The commander waits a few seconds, but no hands shoot up, so he places his hands behind his back and begins to answer Nyota’s question. She listens to what he has to say, and takes notes on it too, because she is genuinely curious about the subject matter, but she keeps thinking about the fact that he remembered her name.

⋘⋙

She goes to his office hours later that day. Commander Spock had not answered her question as fully as she would have liked, partly because his sentences were so lengthy, and partly because he insisted on returning to his scheduled material for the day. Nyota likes the classes that end up becoming an interesting and relevant discussion between teachers and students, so she’s a little disappointed that the commander is so insistent about sticking to his schedule. However, Commander Spock had extended an invitation to his office hours at the end of class for anyone who had questions about the material.

Nyota knows it’s stupid not to take him up on the offer, and besides, she really wants to hear his more lengthy thoughts on first contact. He assigned an enormous amount of reading for the next class, and she really should be starting it, but the thought of a stimulating conversation with the more than handsome commander makes her rationalize her choice to temporarily neglect her homework.

His office door is open, and she presses her palm against her thigh in an attempt to soothe her twisting hand. She’s not nervous about this;  _ she isn’t _ . She has attended office hours before. 

Nyota knocks softly to get his attention after maybe a second too long. The commander looks up from his padd and powers the screen off, placing his stylus on his desk. He stands, and the movement is somehow graceful despite his rigid posture.

“Cadet Uhura,” he says crisply, “How may I be of assistance?”

“Commander,” she says, hovering just inside his door, unsure if she is invited to sit in the chair across from his desk or if she should wait. “I came because I wanted to hear your further thoughts about violent first contact and how our understanding of it would have affected our subsequent understanding of interspecies ethics.”

“A most fascinating question,” the commander says, and sits down again.

Nyota is still unsure if she is invited to sit and doesn’t want to seem rude, so she steps a little farther into the room and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. The commander seems to realize his perceived rudeness and apologizes.

“My apologies, Cadet. You may sit down. Terran customs of waiting for permission to take the logical course of action evade me at times.”

“ _ Rai thrap tor taken wilat rim tor putan-tor _ ,” she replies. The Vulcan phrase that translates to the Standard “it’s no bother,” is her most used Vulcan phrase after the salute.

The Commander nods after a minute blink that might be surprise. Nyota sits, placing her bag neatly against her chair. She folds her hands in her lap, wishing she had something to fiddle with, and instead prompts him to finish his earlier response.

“You were talking about other species who developed warp drives around the same time as Vulcan,” she continues in Standard.

“I was. Qo’noS actually achieved nearly the same rate of scientific progress as Vulcan did, although their discoveries were to further the development of their war dominant culture...”

Nyota listens carefully while she looks around his office. It’s sparsely decorated, unlike some professors she’s had whose office walls were covered in pictures and posters. There’s a framed holoprint of a Vulcan landscape between his bookshelves and a strange plant with red leaves by the window. There is a single photograph of a human woman on his bookshelf who looks familiar to Nyota, but she can’t place her. She can’t see the holoprint clearly at this distance but the woman definitively has gray hair, so it’s highly unlikely she’s his wife or bondmate.

The commander sits so still when he talks that it is impossible to forget that he is not human. 

Nyota is sure that his back isn’t touching his chair, but the way his eyebrows move when he talks tells her he is actually interested in their conversation. Minute after minute of watching his face does not diminish her attraction to him, and she wants to crush that part of herself that is sighing into dust. An infatuation is the last thing she needs right now. It should be enough to just be attracted to him without feelings getting involved. But she has that sinking feeling in her gut and she knows she’s going to have it bad for the commander if she doesn’t already.

They talk for an hour before Nyota jumps when she notices the time on her padd.

“I have homework to do,” she says as she scrambles to stand up and gather her bag.

The commander stands and bids her farewell. She doesn’t expect anything else, really, so she leaves without any further exchange of words.

If she turns around, she’d notice him watching her leave, but she doesn’t, so she is blissfully unaware.

⋘⋙

Starfleet classes don’t have attendance as any portion of the grade. Cadets either show up and do the homework, or they don’t. The professors don’t seem to care if students only appear for tests or attend every single minute of their lectures. Nyota never once hears a professor remark on small class size, no matter if only a hundred students in a class of 300 show up one day when it’s raining torrentially.

Intermediate Phonology is the only class that she struggles a little in. There’s just something about the way her teacher phrases things that confuses her. When she gets an 83 on the first test, she fights back tears. The last time she got a B on a test, she hadn’t slept the night before and had legitimately not seen the last two questions of the test. She throws herself into her homework for Intermediate Cardassian in an attempt to forget one of the worst grades she’s ever gotten.

Nyota is at the linguistics lab late one night, her shift over and almost everyone gone. Gaila has someone at the room tonight, and she hasn’t called Nyota’s comm yet to let her know it’s alright to come back. It’s 2348 right now, and knowing Gaila, it will be another half hour before Nyota’s comm buzzes. She’s working on the short essay assignment that isn’t even due for another week when she notices someone is standing in front of her.

She looks up. It’s Commander Spock. 

_ Of course it’s him _ , she thinks and sets her stylus down.  _ When I’m bone tired and just want to go to bed, I see my very hot and incredibly intelligent professor that I like to think has a good impression of me. _

“Good evening, Commander,” she says as politely as she can manage.

Spock shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself, but he finds the words leaving his mouth anyways.

“I was returning to my quarters for the evening and noticed that the linguistics lab was illuminated. I was unaware it was still occupied. I will not disturb you any further.”

He doesn’t turn and leave immediately, though, so Nyota answers his unspoken question.

“I work here, and my dorm room is currently occupied, so I just didn’t bother moving to the library after my shift finished. I’m going to lock up when I’m finished; don’t worry.”

The commander’s left eyebrow rises slightly. “I was not concerned about your ability to lock a door. I simply wished to ascertain why the light was still on at this time of night. The building is usually cleared of its occupants by now.”

“Well,” Nyota says, shifting her holoprints into neat piles. “I’m here, sir. Your uncertainty has been answered.”

She’s not trying to be curt with him, but there’s a tightness to her words that she wishes she could take back. She wants her bed and the softness of her blanket beneath her cheek right now, but she promised Gaila free reign. Gaila’s stuck to the rules, so Nyota has to uphold her end of the bargain.

The commander shifts his weight slightly, his hands still behind his back. She doesn’t know why he hasn’t moved yet, his firm steps carrying his body out the door, down the steps and to his quarters. She imagines them dim and empty, just as sparsely decorated as his office, and exactingly clean. 

She chides her imagination. She doesn’t know that they’re empty, that there isn’t someone waiting for him there, to greet him and kiss him goodnight. Nyota really shouldn’t be thinking about this anyways.

“Is there something further I can help you with, sir?”

She actually snaps at him this time, irritated. Her hands are fumbling at the holoprints in front of her and she groans a little when she sees that she’s managed to bring her Intermediate Phonology homework to the top of the pile and completely bury her Cardassian homework.

“Are you well, Cadet Uhura?”

If Uhura hears concern in his voice, she’s imagining it. But it’s late and she doesn’t have the energy to tell the commander to fuck off politely, so she finds herself explaining her issues with Lieutenant Morrisey’s phraseology.

He listens to her frustration silently and reaches for the back of a chair nearby. He’s pulling it up to her desk before she can protest. 

The commander takes the holoprint from her carefully and reads it over quickly. He explains Lieutenant Morrisey’s intentions with the specific wording he used, and Nyota actually understands what he’s saying. She wants to focus on the movement of his throat while he speaks and the flutter of his lashes, but she’s too busy writing down what he’s saying so she doesn’t forget it.

“ _ Dan-neruk klem-bosh nash-veh na’gol'nev.  _ I am most humbly grateful for your help,” she says softly, when he’s finished rephrasing the entire worksheet for her. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have used such a formal address for thanks at 0013, but she does feel indebted to the commander for his help. If he notices her lack of title in addressing him, he doesn’t say a word about it.

“ _ Itaren n’oklem _ . I thank you for your honorable gratitude,” he replies. His voice is deep and she is definitely not imagining the subtle angling of his body towards her.

“Would you consider it impolite for me to inquire after your instruction in Vulcan?” he asks after a long moment of silence in which he does not stand up or hand her back her worksheet.

“I taught myself, sir. The fall before I went to university, when I was sixteen. The school year was slow and I wanted to learn.”

That was unnecessary information, and Nyota does not need to be sharing it, but she does. She wonders what the commander was like at sixteen, but she cannot imagine his collected attitude as a teenager. A hint of a smile plays across her lips as she tries to picture the commander on a hoverbike or not listening to his parents.

She thinks the commander is pretending to not notice her amusement, but she can’t be sure when his face is always so carefully blank.

“Intriguing,” is all he offers. “I would have thought you had formal instruction from a member of the Vulcan species. Your pronunciation is,” he pauses for a moment before saying, “Not as lacking as many of your peers.”

Nyota knows it’s a compliment. She blushes a little. “Thank you, sir.”

Commander Spock finally stands and picks up his padd again. His hands disappear behind his back after depositing her holoprint in front of her.

“Good evening, Commander,” she says, and he inclines his head.

“If you are in need of further help, I will not turn you away from my office hours. That time is for students to have their queries answered, and so long as it is material of substance and not a contrived excuse, I have no preference as to the subject material. Good evening, Cadet Uhura.”

She doesn’t notice until he says her name that the formality of his voice has slipped slightly, his crisp tone returning as he says the word “cadet.”

“Thank you again, Commander. I may take you up on that offer.”

He turns and walks out without further comment. Nyota sits in the fluorescent lighting for several minutes and thinks about their interaction and how kind the commander was. She jumps a little when her communicator chirps, but it’s just Gaila.

“You can come back now,” she says, and she’s still a little breathless. “I wasn’t meaning to take so long, but Reaves’ boyfriend joined us tonight and  _ things _ happened.”

Nyota is gathering her things already when her roommate hangs up, but all she can think about is the rhythmic syllables of the commander’s voice when he replied in Vulcan to her expression of gratitude. She is glad for the thickness of her uniform jacket as she walks back to the dorm in the fog, and wishes her skirt was a little longer for the umpteenth time.

Gaila is on her padd when Nyota opens the door, ostensibly doing homework. Her bed is a mess and there’s something sticky right next to the tape line on the floor. Nyota knows not to ask unless she wants way too many details, so she toes out of her boots and dumps her bag on her bed.

“Please tell me you at least have a good vibrator even if you aren’t “getting laid.” The Orion even uses the finger quotation marks and looks extremely pleased with herself.

Nyota catches a glance of her roommate’s padd as she undresses for the night. Gaila is actually doing homework, and that makes Nyota happy. No matter how much Gaila says Nyota is a bore and never does anything but homework, Gaila does actually get good grades.

“My hand has worked just fine all these years,” Nyota says, and immediately regrets it. Of all the people to say that to, she should not have said that to Gaila.

Gaila is standing in front of Nyota immediately, mostly naked and a little too close. She moves back a step when Nyota says, “Personal space, please,” but proceeds to give Nyota a speech on not settling for a good orgasm when you can have a great one.

“I’m buying you a vibrator tomorrow,” Gaila says firmly, after she finishes her tirade.

Nyota is under her covers and has already turned her light off.

“Fine,” Nyota says, “But I get the next two nights alone in our room to try it out.”

“Two nights, and you come out for drinks on Saturday.”

There’s silence from Nyota’s bed, and Gaila wheedles, “I’m doing you a favor here! The least you can do is say thank you and have a few drinks with me.”

“Fine,” Nyota says into her pillow. She knows that Gaila’s grinning even though her head is turned to the wall. Nyota isn’t even planning on touching that vibrator. She just wants two nights in a row where she can do her homework at her own desk and go to bed a little early. She groans a little at the thought of going drinking with Gaila, but she figures she can tap out early with some excuse or another.

⋘⋙

When Nyota steps out of the sonic the next morning, there’s a bag on her bed. Gaila is nowhere to be seen. Nyota dresses before she opens the bag. She stares at it out of the corner of her eye while she does her makeup and puts her earrings on before curiosity finally gets the best of her.

There’s a note inside in Gaila’s loopy handwriting.

“Drinks on Saturday night! Have fun!”

Nyota sighs and opens the box. It isn’t as weird looking as she thought and it even comes with directions. She looks at it and then checks the time. She places the vibrator back inside the box and decides to be a little early for class.

Gaila is late again, and Nyota is beginning to think she has a pre-Interspecies Ethics fuck buddy. Her inbox notifies her that she has three new messages from her roommate, the last titled: Have fun this morning?

Nyota needs to mute her inbox during class so she won’t even get these notifications, but Commander Spock has walked in, and her attention is occupied for the rest of class time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will tell anyone and everyone who will listen that Spock is canonically kind. It's the damn truth and there's evidence to prove it.
> 
> Shoutout to LieutenantSaavik for betaing!!! 
> 
> Also! I'm doing chapter titles now! They're all quotes from Tender is the Night, because I love that book. Anyways. Summer break is treating me kindly and I hope you all enjoy the extra chapter this week!


	6. she had an air of seeming to wait

Nyota desperately needs to pee, but she only has two more sentences left to write in her essay for Interspecies Ethics, and she really wants to not get up when she’s so close to being done. It’s 2200 on a Friday night, and as promised, Gaila is nowhere to be seen. Nyota did try the vibrator earlier in the night, after her Cardassian homework was finished, but she doesn’t want to give Gaila the satisfaction of knowing that, so she’s hidden the box in her sock drawer. Nyota really, really does not want to see the smug look on Gaila’s face when she tells her that she was right. So she’s finishing this essay, peeing, and going to bed.

Gaila comes in at 0128, and Nyota is still awake. She started reading Commander Spock’s dissertation after she got in bed for some reason she’s not sure she can put into words. She’s in her nightgown, the covers pulled up over her shoulders and her blanket by her head. She’s propped up on her elbow and looks up a little guiltily at her roommate.

“Are you still doing homework?” Gaila asks disapprovingly, even though she does homework late all the time. She’s told Nyota in the past that it’s because she actually goes out and has fun, while Nyota works out and reads in her free time.

“No, I’m reading Commander Spock’s dissertation,” she says, feeling strangely embarrassed. “It’s really quite fascinating, the assertions he makes, and I think I disagree with him, especially on his analysis of Halan’s theory, but he’s so articulate I almost don’t mind.”

Gaila’s clothes are in a pile on her floor and her blankets are a mess around her body.

“Nyota, I shouldn’t have gotten you that vibrator. You can get yourself off just by reading academic articles. Don’t let me get in your way.”

There’s a note of hurt in her light tone that makes Nyota realize her blunder in not expressing thanks for Gaila’s gift. She only has to read the commander’s conclusion, but it’s two pages long, so she shuts off her padd for a moment.

“Gaila,” she says, and turns to look at the pile of blankets she’s disappeared under. “I don’t always- I sometimes mess up human interactions too. I’m sorry I didn’t say thank you earlier. It was very thoughtful of you to get me a vibrator. Thank you.”

Gaila’s head pops out from the mass of poly-blend fabric.

“You’re welcome. So, how is it now that the quality of your orgasms have improved?”

“Gaila, no. I’m not discussing my orgasms with you. It’s late and I want to finish this before I go to sleep.”

“You’re boring,” the Orion says, “But you’re a good roommate, so I tolerate you.”

Nyota finally shuts off her padd at 0153 and lies there in the dark, listening to the sound of Gaila’s breathing. If she’s being completely honest with herself, she was hoping she disagreed with some tenet of the commander’s paper so she could talk about it in office hours with him. It wasn’t that she didn’t have more Intermediate Phonology homework that needed translating into plain Standard. She just wanted some back up so she wouldn’t have to have a contrived reason to talk to Commander Spock.

Nyota presses her face against her blanket in an attempt to go to sleep, and instead thinks about his long fingers as they fly across his padd and the sound of his voice speaking his native language.  _ You’re in deep, Uhura _ , she tells herself as she drifts off to sleep.  _ And you’ve found out he’s kind as well. You’re screwed. _

⋘⋙

Nyota wears one of her floral dresses that she shoved to the back of her closet at the beginning of the semester when she goes out with Gaila on Saturday. Gaila is, of course, dressed in something incredibly tight and small. The Orion tries to get Nyota to wear something of her own, but she refuses. Nyota puts on an extra dangly pair of earrings and gives Gaila a very firm look.

“I promised drinks plural, so I’ll have two. Then I’m coming back and I’m going to drink a lot of water and go to bed.”

“You’re such a bore, Nyota. You need to loosen up a little.”

“I like myself the way I am, thank you.”

The bar is loud, the pulsing lights and thumping music just on the edge of too much input, but Nyota promised Gaila, so she stays. Nyota has tasted alcohol before, likes the fizzy feeling in her gut, but has never indulged to anything over the point of being tipsy. Her favorite drink is wine, but Gaila goes for the high alcohol content in mixed drinks and insists that Nyota join her. Nyota complies, quickly tipping back two Cardassian Sunrises.

“I had drinks,” Nyota has to yell slightly to be heard, “Plural. Can I go now?”

“No,” Gaila yells back. “You just got here. You have to have fun! Dance with me or someone!” She gestures at the crowd gyrating to the music.

“Gaila, I’m not going to be felt up by some random guy. It’s too loud here anyways. I need to go.”

“Fine, go home and read some more dissertations by your Commander Spock.”

“Gaila, I’m not trying to be rude, but I legitimately am having a tough time here.”

The Orion stares at her for a long moment and drains her Klavnian fire tea. “Nyota, you’re a strange human being. Also, you totally have a thing for Commander Spock. You said his name in your sleep last night.”

“Fuck,” Nyota mutters, then says louder, “I’ve been dragged into it against my will, just so you know. And I have absolutely zero chance with him. He’s probably already got a bondmate back on Vulcan. Plus,” she said, waving her hand in a large motion, “He’s a fucking Vulcan. God, what is in those Cardassian Sunrises? I think I’m drunk. Oh god, I’m drunk. I’m going to hate myself in the morning.”

Gaila slides another of the purple drinks across to her. “You need to talk about your feelings,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You haven’t even had sex with him! How can you like him if you don't know what he’s like in bed? You haven’t even touched! Or gone on a date, or done any of the normal stuff. You just go to his office hours a lot and sit in his class twice a week.”

Nyota would not be having this conversation if her body wasn’t feeling slightly floaty. “I hate feelings,” she says. “They’re so fucking stupid.” 

She takes a drink. 

“We passed each other in the hall once right before the semester started and I’ve thought about it for weeks. His fingers are so nice, you know? All I think about when I’m not thinking about school is his fucking fingers.” She’s slurring her words a little and she doesn’t think she’s ever sworn this much in her entire life.

“Nyota,” Gaila says, taking her by the arm. “Let’s go outside.”

She guides Nyota through the crowd and out into the cool air. The fog is rising, and Nyota shivers a little. Gaila plops down on the curb and drags her friend down next to her.

“Tell me everything.”

“I didn’t tell you this, but he helped me with my Intermediate Phonology homework a couple nights ago in the linguistics lab, and fuck, I have it even worse now that I know he’s  _ kind _ . Like I’m so, so cosmically screwed. I never get crushes, ever. And I have to get one on a superior officer-my professor, even!- who’s a  _ Vulcan _ . He complimented my pronunciation, you know. I thanked him in Vulcan so he heard me speak it, and I’ve never felt so nervous in my life when he replied with the equivalent of you’re welcome and there was this long pause and then he said my pronunciation wasn’t as lacking as some of my peers and I felt so happy in that moment, like all fizzy and wonderful-” Nyota stops her torrent of words to look at Gaila.

“-And then he said I could come to him anytime about any problems I had because his office hours were for helping and so long as it was a good reason he didn’t care what class it was for and god, I’m in so, so deep.”

Gaila looks at Nyota for a long moment and helps her up from the curb. “You need to have sex with him,” she says firmly as she starts walking up the hill back to the Academy.

“Gaila,” Nyota almost wails, and  _ fuck she is so drunk, she is going to be so hungover in the morning and she has to review Cardassian verbs for her test on Monday _ . 

“He’s a  _ Vulcan _ . They kiss by touching fingers, for heaven’s sake! I can’t just proposition him like that, and besides, casual sex isn’t my thing. I  _ like _ him, whatever the hell that even means.”

Gaila helps Nyota up the steps and into their room before she says, “Figure out a way to spend more time with him. You’re hot, he’s probably attracted to you. Does he have a TA?”

Nyota’s alcohol-slowed thoughts crystallize after a minute. “Yes!” she yells, before clapping her hand over her mouth. “I think his name is Xeron? He’s a Trill; I remember now.”

Her roommate looks her in the eyes. “You need to apply to be his TA next semester. All that time alone in his office, it’s sure to make the sexual tension between you two come to a head? Is that the right way to say that?”

“Okay,” Nyota says, suddenly feeling ill. “I’ll apply to be his TA for next semester, and yes, Gaila, that was exactly right. I feel sick.”

Nyota runs into the bathroom and is violently ill. She rests her head against the cool plastic of the waste unit and yells, “I’ve never drinking with you again, Gaila!”

Gaila just laughs. Nyota groans and forces herself up and away from the purple mess in the unit to the sink to rinse out her mouth. She gulps down water and stares at herself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, Uhura,” she whispers at her reflection.

_ Shit _ , she thinks, and remembers that she’s supposed to call Sanaa in an hour. She can’t go to sleep, so she spends the next fifty-five minutes drinking huge amounts of water in an attempt to sober up.

Nyota is still tipsy when her communicator goes off, and she’s glad Sanaa doesn’t prefer the holoscreen for calls, because she looks like a mess. Gaila is doing homework, and Nyota is pissed that she can be so coherent with so much alcohol inside her. She steps into the hall.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“How’s it going, Nyota?”

“I’m kind of drunk,” Nyota says without meaning to. “I’m sorry, I promised Gaila I would go out for drinks and I had three Cardassian Sunrises and she drank more than should be possible and she’s currently doing Intro to Warp Theory homework and I'm very mad she's so coherent.”

“Nyota, you got drunk? What prompted that measure of irresponsibility?”

Nyota hears Rebecca moving around in the background and the faint sound of her saying, “Earl, no, stop!” She sighs and thinks about the many nights she spent in the company of her sister and her wife and she misses them so badly.

“Gaila bought me a vibrator.” Nyota pinches her eyes shut as Sanaa laughs loudly.

“I need to hear this story. Tell me everything.”

So Nyota does, and for a moment, she’s back in her sister’s kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand and the radio playing softly. It’s probably the alcohol that’s making her so sentimental, but she enjoys the feeling anyways.

Sanaa listens to her talk about school and work in the linguistics lab and Cardassian verbs, and then it’s Nyota’s turn to hear about her and Rebecca’s jobs and the milestones Earl’s hitting. It’s an hour later when Nyota finally closes her communicator and slides down the wall to sit in the hallway. She didn’t tell Sanaa about her thing for Commander Spock, even though she wanted to desperately. 

It was just that Sanaa had made some remark forever ago about how interspecies relationships were for people who couldn’t get laid by humans, and Nyota thinks of the pinched look her mother had when she was five years old in that department store and talked to the Andorian. It’s not like she and the commander are ever going to be a thing anyways, but she remembers the little things her family has done and said over the years and she decides keeping her mouth shut is a good idea.

⋘⋙

Other students find out about the commander’s willingness to help with their homework as the semester progresses and soon it’s not just Nyota who visits his office for valid reasons. The students looking to flirt with the handsome commander quickly learned that their advances were met with professionalism and coolness, so their return was only with actual questions from then on. Nyota soon has a hard time getting more than twenty minutes in with the commander, which is disappointing due to the livelihood of their discussions.

She begins to notice the little ways Commander Spock expresses his emotion: the twitch of his eyebrows, the small movement of his hand when he is so deep into an argument that she wanted to strangle him for being so impassive, his slight lean forward when she sits across from him. Nyota adds these actions to the catalogue of things she allows herself to think about at night before she falls asleep.

⋘⋙

Midterms come and go, and Nyota comes flying to the commander’s office when she gets her Intermediate Phonology paper back and there’s a 99 on the score sheet.

She says thank you breathlessly in Standard, her hair falling out of her bun in wisps and her smile stretching from ear to ear. His hand twitches a little at his side as he says firmly, “It was entirely your doing, Cadet Uhura.”

“Thank you anyways,” she says back, and then says all in a rush, “I have to get to work, I just- I wanted to let you know and to thank you.”

“Your gratitude is unneeded,” the commander says, but he doesn’t says it’s unwelcome, and there’s a set to his shoulders that’s a little more relaxed than his normal stiffness.

Nyota is still smiling, and she says thank you again, the informal  _ nemaiyo _ , and then she is out of his office as quickly as she came in.

⋘⋙

The TA postings appear the week of finals and Nyota would be angrier if she wasn’t so anxious about other applicants being more qualified for the position of being the commander’s TA. She’s a first year, which is unusual, but she did test out of most of the prerequisites, so she forces the anxiety into a ball in the pit of her stomach. The commander didn’t even specify which class he wanted a TA for, which means that she would likely be helping for every single one of his classes, which seems a little steep considering her full schedule for the next semester. But Nyota can drop her job at the linguistics lab, and if she’s the commander’s TA, she’s sure she can get a good internship for the summer.

Gaila keeps telling her that she’s more than qualified and that she should calm down, but Nyota’s shoulders do not ease until her inbox pings the last day of finals. Her hands shake slightly as she hits the notification, wishing she didn’t feel so foolish. Gaila looks at the grin that spreads across Nyota’s face and flies out her hands.

“I told you,” Gaila says easily, and doesn’t stare at Nyota’s hands.

“Thank you,” Nyota says, and collects herself. She’s not just thanking Gaila for the idea of applying for the job, nor the encouragement. Gaila’s quiet acceptance of her differences means the world to Nyota.

She goes to the commander’s office to turn the padd with her final essay in, as well as to thank him for the job. She’s already turning over the hours they’re going to spend together, and she thinks that the commander would be a good friend if this stupid crush ever goes away. Then again, there is that faint possibility that she will not allow herself to hope for, that he is not bonded or married, and that even smaller chance that he likes her back.

The commander’s desk is piled high with padds, and he is bent over one himself. His current TA is sitting at his desk in the corner already working over a few of them. They sit in silence and Nyota is a little hesitant to break it, so she walks in without saying anything.

Nyota places her padd on the commander’s desk and feels a sudden sense of déjà vu as she adjusts it to line up with the straight line of the wood. She thinks it’s real wood anyways, or very well replicated if not. She spends far longer than is necessary making sure the edges are exactly parallel, wanting to not break the silence that says too much between them. Nyota doesn’t even want to look up, afraid that he won’t be watching her and afraid that he is. It’s a long moment before the commander asks her if there’s anything she requires.

_ I’d like to kiss you and also have dinner with you and also listen to you talk for hours _ , she thinks and immediately cuts the thought off, that article drifting back to her memory.

“I look forward to working with you next semester, Commander,” she says quietly. “Thank you for selecting me, even though there were obviously more qualified individuals who applied.”

“That is incorrect.” His voice sounds almost brittle, his words expelled with some force.

The commander’s tone makes Nyota look up finally. He’s staring at her with something maybe approaching intensity.

“Pardon?”

“While there were plenty of applicants who applied with similar qualifications, none were first years. You have accomplished what several third years have not, and therefore, you have set yourself apart. Your resume is not lacking. This position would be beneficial for a cadet as ambitious as you have demonstrated yourself to be.”

Nyota tries not to blush and she’s pretty sure she fails. “ _ Cha’i t’naat _ ,” she says as clearly as she can manage. She figures “sentiment of respect” is a better way to address thanks in the formality of the situation, no matter that Xeron likely doesn’t understand what she’s saying.

“ _ Veling _ . Of course (It was the logical thing to do).”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and carefully doesn’t look at his hands.  _ His really, really nice hands that are large enough to probably wrap around her waist, engulf her shoulder in a second _ -

“Have a good winter break, Commander,” she forces herself to say. “I’ll see you in a few weeks. Do you need my padd ID, or?”

Spock does not understand why humans leave their sentences unfinished like that, an incomplete thought hanging in the air that would be better completed, but he doesn’t say this.

“It is on your file,” he says instead. “And therefore I have access to it. I shall be sending you your work hours in the next week, as well as some preliminary work for the start of classes.”

“Oh, um, I was actually going to ask you about that,” Nyota says, and adjusts the way her bag sits on her shoulder. “Am I going to be your TA for every class you teach, or just one of them? That was unclear during the application process, which is unusual for you, Commander.”

The commander’s brow furrows. “It was not intended to be unclear. You will be assisting with all of my classes, in some capacity. I would have specified if you were to only assist with one class. You appeared capable of handling a heavy workload, as evidenced by your last year and a half at university. Is my conclusion incorrect?”

“No sir,” Nyota says, and thinks of another semester like the ones at LPU, and she can’t hate the idea when it’s the commander, it’s  _ Starfleet _ , and hell if she’s giving up this opportunity for her resume. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she repeats, and turns to leave.

“It is unnecessary to state the obvious, Cadet Uhura. I will require your class schedule at your earliest possible convenience.”

“Okay,” Nyota says, and leaves for real this time. She knows the commander meant to send her class schedule for the spring as soon as she left, so she sends it on the turbolift. Her inbox has buzzed twice by the time she returns to her dorm.

She has a shuttle to catch at 0800 tomorrow morning, and she’s barely started packing, but she reads the commander’s messages as she opens the door to her and Gaila’s room. Gaila is staying over winter break because she doesn’t have anyone. Nyota stared at her helplessly two nights ago.

“I would invite you, but my family- they’re okay with non-Terrans at a distance, but every interaction I’ve seen them have with ‘the other’ has been so stiff and forced, and I’m so embarrassed by some of the jokes they’ve made. You coming with me would likely be even worse than being alone. I’m so, so sorry.”

Gaila understands, and says she’ll go out and have lots of sex for Nyota.

“You would do that anyways,” Nyota had said, and Gaila laughed and nodded.

Now there’s something hanging in the air between them, and Nyota doesn’t like it. She knows Gaila is alone here, but they have each other, so the knowledge doesn’t feel the same at this point in time. Gaila doesn’t talk about her past, and Nyota doesn’t ask, but she knows about the slave culture on Orion, and she knows Orion girls have black hair, not red. The respect and privacy she offers Gaila is a small thing in return for all of Gaila’s acceptance and care.

Gaila isn’t here, though, and Nyota secretly hopes that Gaila has a really nice orgy or something happening. 

The commander seems to have sent his teaching schedule as well as his office hours to her. His second message is incredibly long, and it’s a list of everything she’s going to be doing for him this next semester. Nyota sighs as she pulls her suitcase from underneath her bed. It’s going to be a long four and a half months.

⋘⋙

Nyota didn’t want to go to Kenya for Christmas, but Sanaa and Rebecca told her they were coming, so she didn’t really have a choice. It’s weird to be in her room, with the sounds of her grown up sisters and their spouses downstairs, conversing with her parents. Nyota feels on the outside again, painfully so. She’s the only one alone, besides Earl, but he’s young. He’s too young to feel loneliness.

_ I’m so- _ Nyota doesn’t know what she thinks she is. She wants to be at the Academy right now, learning Cardassian and going to Spock’s office hours. It’s strange to learn a language so slowly, but Nyota knows if she pushes ahead of the material, she’s going to drive herself up the wall, so she’s staying at the same pace as the rest of her class. But Spock? There’s no pacing herself when it comes to thinking about him.

Nyota can’t even remember the last time she had a crush this bad. She can’t tell Sanaa for fear of losing the person she’s closest to, and she knows her parents would offer tight-lipped laughter and “We were meant to stay within our species guidelines; I mean, is that even anatomically possible?”

She hates that she can play these things out so thoroughly in her head and know them to be the truth. Nyota presses her pillow over her head and enjoys the brief moment of complete silence before climbing off her bed. She’s smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress (it feels weird not to have the high collar of her uniform to run her fingers over; the just-too short hem of the skirt to tug down) when Gabriel opens her door.

“I’ve been sent to inform you we have to sing Jingle Bells together and eat replicated gingerbread because Marjani burnt the real stuff.”

Nyota fixes the earring that’s about to come out of her ear and smiles a little wanly at her brother-in-law. Gabriel is a really nice guy who works for the Federation and who actually had a good talk with her about Starfleet the day before he married her sister. Nyota likes him as much as she can for someone she barely knows due to his proximity to Eshe.

“Okay, I’ll be down in just a moment.”

She knows Gabriel saw the warp equation poster on her door, and is looking at the faint glimmer of the other holoprints on her walls, two-thirds of them in non-Terran languages. Nyota feels strangely split open and examined in that moment, as if she has only just noticed that her insides are painted all over the four walls that make up her once-hallowed and still familiar space.

Nyota moves forward quickly and forces Gabriel to step back so she can shut the door to her room.

“How many languages do you speak?” he asks her as they go down the stairs. There’s only curiosity in his voice, no hint of malice.

She can’t count them all that quickly, so she takes a moment to respond. Gabriel’s mouth actually drops open when she tells him, before she adds, “And a bunch of those languages have two or more dialects that I also know.”

Nyota doesn’t want to dwell on Gabriel’s astonishment though, so she smiles at her brother-in-law again and joins the warmth of her parent’s kitchen.

She’s itching to tell Sanaa about her crush. She’s never kept something from her older sister for so long in her entire life.  _ Maybe if I just leave out the fact that he’s Vulcan. Maybe then it will be okay _ .

So Nyota tells Sanaa over a glass of wine the night before she leaves for the Academy again. It’s not okay; not really. Part of her attraction to the Vulcan commander has to do with his alienness: the way his sideburns mirror the points of his ears and that faint green tinge in his skin noticeable when he stands next to humans; the grace to his almost robotic movements. Sanaa wants to hear all the details, but her sister will only give sparse ones.

“He was your teacher, huh? That’s pretty hot. If he isn’t your teacher again next semester, you should go for it. They don’t have rules against that, do they?”

“I don’t even know,” Nyota realizes. “I haven’t even thought to look it up. I don’t even know if he’s single, though; I mean it’s highly possible that he has a-” She cuts herself off. Bondmate is not a phrase Terrans use.

“-I mean, I know nothing about his personal life. He could be married, for all I know. And he isn’t my teacher this semester, but he is my boss, so that’s definitely off the table. I’m going to be his TA, and he’s going to give me a shit ton of work, but it’s going to look good on my resume to have done it as a first year! And I get to spend time with him, and really, I would like to be the commander’s friend, even if nothing romantic happens. He’s so intelligent, and we have the best conversations. I just like him a lot, and I’m probably going to die over the course of the next semester as I spend untold hours in his presence.”

Sanaa raises her eyebrows and refills her wineglass. “Nyota, honey, you have it bad.”

“I know,” Nyota says and drains her last sip. “I need to go to bed.”

“Tell me if he or you makes a move,” Sanaa says, waving her glass at her sister. “I want to know all the details as this thing happens, or you’re not a good sister.”

“Of course,” Nyota says automatically. It’s not going to be good if she actually tells Sanaa all the details, though, so she’s forced to lie to her sister for maybe the second time in her life. She still hasn’t told Sanaa that she had a crush on a Bajoran when she was fourteen, and she feels it wise to continue to keep that information to herself.

⋘⋙

Nyota’s room is occupied when she gets back. She stands outside the door and listens to the sound of Gaila moaning and some guy grunting for five full seconds before she decides to take her bag to the library and come back in an hour.

Gaila is kicking the guy out of their room when Nyota returns with a padd on Ferengi social interactions that she’s already a third of the way into. The cadet is buttoning up his uniform jacket as Nyota dumps her suitcase on her bed.

He’s handsome, his strong features and dark skin accentuated by the red of his uniform, and he gives Nyota a once over while tugging on his shoes.

“You won’t have any luck,” Gaila says before Nyota can say anything. “She’s got the hots for someone else right now.”

Nyota shrugs as she folds her pajamas more neatly and puts them away. She threw everything in the wash before she left so she wouldn’t have to worry about that today, and she’s really thankful she doesn’t have to deal with the old and finicky machines downstairs.

“You’re plenty attractive,” she says politely, “but Gaila is correct. I do currently have it going for someone else. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll be sure to look you up.”

Nyota never sees the people Gaila fucks, but today she has too much to do to care about what’s happening. The cadet is pretty good looking, and she would probably be asking for his comm number in another life. But she has to organize the commander’s already pristine slides for Interspecies Ethics into a “more cohesive and understandable format, as I have been informed that they are lacking. I am unsure as to where these deficiencies arise, but I have been assured that it’s a wholly human problem and the majority of my students would benefit from rephrasing.”

Nyota sighs deeply as the cadet looks at her again before walking out the door.

“I trust you had a good vacation?”

“I had six orgies, so yes, thank you. How was your family?”

“I was happy to see Sanaa and Earl again. My mom was- her usual self. Everyone else just kind of- I don’t know. I feel like the further I progress towards my goals, the more I grow away from them. They aren’t close-minded, or at least, don’t think they are. They just- They think a certain way, and any changes that have been made have been so incremental as to be unnoticeable. I can feel myself even growing away from Sanaa, and it hurts. I want to have a better family, you know?”

Gaila looks at her softly. “I know.”

They hug then, fierce and tight, and Nyota realizes that she’s always made her own family. If Gaila is the beginning of her next family, then she’s okay with that. Starfleet is where she’s going to spend the rest of her life, so she might as well make a family here. Sanaa and Rebecca and Earl will be there, but not the same, and Nyota realizes it’s been coming for a long time. Starfleet was always going to be the point she grew distant from her family. She’s going to go into space for years at a time. There’s subspace communicators, but there’s also the knowledge of the vast unknowing that space brings, and that cannot be found in those who make Earth their home.

“Thank you,” Nyota says, and she’s not crying at all; not even a little.

Gaila says, “I need to tell you something,” into Nyota’s shoulder, and they finally pull apart.

“What?” Nyota wipes under her eyes with her index fingers and flops onto her bed, her mostly empty suitcase bouncing slightly.

“I actually did proposition Commander Spock at the beginning of the semester, and you said you didn’t want to hear a lot about my sex life, so I didn’t tell you.”

Nyota’s heart is pounding loudly in her ears. “What happened? You didn’t have sex with him, did you?”

“I started undressing during his office hours that first week and he just gave me this look before saying, ‘Cadet Gaila, please remain dressed.’ And that was it. He looked at my body very briefly, but like, he didn’t  _ look  _ at me. I mean, he was handsome and I wanted to try. Touch telepathy is hot, you know,” Gaila says and sighs a little. “You know I had to try, right? You aren’t going to be mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad, Gaila,” Nyota says, and she can’t be mad because she’s laughing too hard.

“Please remain dressed,” she says through tears of laughter. “Please remain dressed. Oh god, I can imagine the way his eyebrows twitched.  _ Please remain dressed _ . Gaila, I want that tattooed on me.”

Gaila looks at Nyota with her hands on her hips, such a human gesture that Nyota almost stops laughing for a moment.

“He’s a Vulcan; what do you want me to say?” There’s an accusatory tone to Gaila’s words that makes Nyota laugh even harder.

She finally stops after a couple minutes. “Gaila, I needed a good laugh. Thank you for that.”

Nyota finishes compiling the commander’s slides into slightly less... punctilious language sometime around 1900 and goes to the mess hall to get a salad with Gaila.

 Commander Spock is sitting by himself at a table, and Nyota tries to remember if she’s ever seen the commander in the mess hall before. She can’t, and he looks so out of place that she wants to laugh a little at the sight of him. He’s on his padd, presumably doing work of some kind, his brow furrowed slightly as he taps on the screen.

 Gaila nudges Nyota with her elbow after she’s been standing and looking at the commander for a full ten seconds. 

 “Go sit with him. It won’t be weird; you’re his TA as of two days from now. Talk about work, but go sit with him. It can’t hurt. I’m being your wingman, yeah?”

“Yeah, Gaila, okay,” Nyota says, and rubs her nose. It might actually not be a good idea at all. The commander seems to be a pretty private person and probably wishes to be undisturbed. But she finds herself walking over to him anyways and plopping her tray down with a smile.

The commander looks at her and says, “Cadet Uhura,” and it’s downright frosty. Nyota almost gets up and leaves immediately, as she’s sure that look was intended to make her do just that. However, she’s here now, and she knows Gaila is watching her, so she had better just say something about work.

“I rephrased those slides you sent me just now, but I forgot to send them to you, and I left my padd in my room. I’ll send them as soon as I get back.”

The commander’s eyebrows stay solidly in place. “I will await their arrival,” he says, his voice still cool and formal.

“I didn’t know you ate in the mess hall,” Nyota says. “I’ve never seen you here before.” She sits down and smoothes her skirt, looking at his hands still paused over the screen of his padd while she settles herself.

“You are correct in your observation that I do not normally frequent the mess hall. I prefer to eat in my office or cook in my quarters. However, this evening, I was unwilling to avail myself of the nearest grocery store. Simplicity over complexity due to my preparations for class.”

If Nyota didn’t know better, she would think that Commander Spock was trying to defend himself. After a pause, in which he removes his hands from his padd and settles them on his lap, he says stiltedly, “How was your break?”

Nyota is taken aback slightly by the commander’s question. She stabs a tomato with her fork.

“Decent. My nephew was the highlight of my trip.” Short. Curt, not too personal. 

She’s not involving the commander in family politics or discussing her family’s inability to accept her differences even after twenty years of being around her. She is definitively not bringing up the whole having a crush on an alien thing and how she can’t talk about it with her sister, to whom she tells everything. So she talks about Earl, who is soft and small and growing too fast; who said “yotah,” in his baby voice, and Nyota felt herself melt into a puddle for the rest of the night.

“How was your winter break?” she finds herself asking, knowing he’s going to use even fewer words than she did.

“Acceptable.”

Nyota doesn’t want to talk personal anyways. This is good. Attention off of her and onto something else.

“Do Vulcans observe any holidays around this time?” she asks, equally curious and desperate to fill the silence the commander seems to be exuding in large quantities.

“We do not have anything resembling Christmas, if that is what you are asking. Vulcans observe Kal Rekk, which is a day of solitude and silence. It falls around the month of April here on Earth.”

“Neat,” Nyota says, and shovels half her salad in her mouth before anymore words pass between her lips.

It’s not that she’s tongue-tied in his presence; she can get the words out fine. It’s that her brain suddenly feels devoid of anything intelligent to say for the first couple seconds she looks at him, and he’s so hard to read she can’t just build a rapport off of jokes.  _ Work, let’s talk about work, _ she thinks, and blessedly, Commander Spock starts to speak just as she shoves a piece of carrot in her mouth.

“I am aware of the fact that you are enrolled in Commander Kjin’s section of Advanced Phonology this semester. I do not find that your assistance with some materials for the section of Advanced Phonology I will be teaching will be a conflict. That is, unless you have an objection?”

The commander fixes Nyota with a firm gaze, and she quickly finishes chewing her mouthful.

“Not at all, sir. If anything, I may gain an advanced understanding of the material by examining multiple teachers’ approaches to the subject. I don’t think that I will have the same issues in Advanced Phonology as I did in the Intermediate portion, however. Different teacher means a whole different approach.”

The commander nods, and Nyota notices his plate is empty. He’s waiting for her to finish before leaving, she realizes, and suddenly feels very self-aware. After that greeting and curt conversation, he’s being polite to her?  _ Maybe he just didn’t want to be disturbed from his work _ , she thinks. She finds herself hurrying to finish her salad.

Spock is watching Cadet Uhura eat, against all better judgment. He had allowed his irritation at being disturbed to rise to the surface when she had approached his table. Perhaps it had been unwise to do so, but he felt he had remedied the situation appropriately by offering information on his eating habits. The cadet appeared removed, not as animated as she usually was. Her face had seemed joyful when she referred to her nephew, but she had said no more on the subject of her vacation. It was hardly acceptable or logical to pry, but Spock found himself curious as to why she had been so closed off about a subject most humans chattered about endlessly. Humans enjoyed their leisure from employment and education, for the most part, and wished to discuss what activities they had participated in while on these excursions at great length.

Perhaps it was because the cadet applied herself so thoroughly to her studies that she found it hard to be drawn away. It was a waste of time to speculate, but Spock managed to find himself speculating about Cadet Uhura more than was perhaps appropriate. Her discussions with him were fascinating and quite stimulating. Her class work had been more than satisfactory. She was an exemplary student, and he holds her in high regard. There is no reason for him to find his thoughts, usually so ordered, wandering to the cadet as often as they do.

Cadet Uhura is attractive, he will not deny that. But she was his student last semester, and in his employment this semester. Regardless of those facts, he is her commanding officer, and he is unsure that Starfleet regulations permit fraternization of that sort between superior and inferior officers. Spock has read her file as well, and is aware that Uhura is young to be at Starfleet. She is not thirteen, like Cadet Chekov, but she is not the age of her classmates.

The cadet has made some small signs of attraction to him, but they cannot be easily identified as such. The intensity of her gaze during their discussions and her repeated visits with varied and valid reasons have marked students as merely zealous in past encounters. She does not display the same flirtations as her fellow cadets have in the past, and it causes him to remain unsure if she returns his feelings of attraction. It does not bear overthinking, Spock knows, but he is going to be spending a significant amount of time in the enclosed space of his office with the cadet this semester. 

So he sits and waits until Cadet Uhura is finished eating. He walks with her to the trash receptacle and offers her the farewell of his father’s people.

“ _ Sochya eh dif _ ,” she replies, like she always does. It would be equally appropriate to return the sentiment of  _ diftor heh smusma _ , but she seems to prefer the less common response. The cadet’s accent is as unnoticeable as one not born on Vulcan can manage, and it is pleasing to hear someone who does not mangle the cadence of his native language.

Spock watches her friend, Cadet Gaila, approach as they exit the mess hall. The two women’s heads are bent together for a moment before they throw their heads back in laughter. He remembers that day in his office when the Orion had propositioned him and quickly erases that thought from his mind. 

It would be more profitable to return to his quarters to meditate immediately then it would be to watch Cadet Uhura and her friend walk down the path to the dorms, but he does not move in the opposite direction until the red of their uniforms is swallowed up by the shadow of the simulation building across the quad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's literally been a week since I finished my last final and I'm already losing track of time I almost forgot to post this chapter. I was doing laundry and I was like... wait. Today is Thursday. I really should put my posting schedule in my calendar or something. Not having a consistent schedule messes with me.
> 
> Shoutout to my beta LieutenantSaavik, who is fighting the good fight against my many comma issues.


	7. from a wood into clear moonlight

Nyota’s first day of school isn't terrible at all. She's pretty sure she's going to sleep four hours a night, every night, this semester, but it's worth it. She didn't come to Starfleet to be second best, and she has full plans on graduating as a lieutenant. She already knows she isn't going home for summers. 

She is slightly worried about three hours in the sole presence of Commander Spock in between classes this afternoon, but they will be working, so she won't have time to moon over him. At least, that's what she tells herself. It's not really true, because now she has perfectly good excuses to look at him and ask him questions, and she doesn't know whether to thank Gaila or to curse her for this idea.

It looks good on her resume, she reminds herself as she forces herself to not focus on the slightly more lax tone of voice the commander takes with her in private. Everything about him is just so subtle and small that it's a game to figure out what he's really hiding beneath his exterior. He remains strictly professional besides the release in the tightness of his words, however, and the time together passes too quickly.

Nyota is nearly finished grading the pop quiz the commander gave both sections of his Advanced Phonology students on the pre-class reading when the commander says crisply, “It is 1500 hours, Cadet Uhura. You are free to leave.”

It's obvious most of the cadets hadn't taken a class from the commander before, because there are too many quizzes with the wrong answers on them. She isn't done, because the questions all have multiple parts, and she looks at the stack a little helplessly. It's completely unprofessional to leave a task unfinished, and she knows the commander's assignments are always returned the next class meeting.

“I can take these to my dorm and finish them later tonight and have them for you in the morning before my 0830 class, or I can return after my class is over and finish them in your office. Which would you prefer, Commander?”

“Whichever is more amenable to your schedule,” he says, and Nyota knows it’s not likely that he would let her take student padds out of his office.

“I'll come back after I get out of class then. I'm going to bring dinner with me.”

Nyota gathers up the holoprint sheets into neat piles and grabs her bag from the floor as she speaks, only glancing up at the commander as she starts to walk towards the door. She tugs her skirt down, and stares right back at the commander.

“If that's amenable, of course,” she says snippily, and she shouldn't have, but she doesn't want to be given the illusion of a choice. Her hands find her ponytail and give it a quick twirl as she waits for Commander Spock to speak.

“It is.”

The commander is bent over his padd again before Nyota turns away.

⋘⋙

It is distracting, having Cadet Uhura in such close quarters. More than Spock anticipated, even. She chews on the end of her stylus when she thinks and fiddles with her earrings as she writes. He never noticed her fidgeting to such an extent before, and he finds himself fascinated. It is a pleasure to observe her, but he is careful to return his attention to his work a moment before she raises her own head. Spock is not seeking a citation for anything that could be seen as inappropriate conduct, no matter how small. It is better to be careful than to regret. He knows this, yet he does not want to be careful.

Spock read her file that first day after she came to his office, and he turns over her exam scores in his head. It's her intelligence as much as her looks that attracts him, and he admits, her humanity as well. He hasn't entered into a relationship since he broke his bond with T’Pring, even though he is aware of many possible candidates. Spock has his work, which always takes precedence over frivolous occupations. There always appears to be more to accomplish, however, and he has not thought of companionship in any sense for years now.

But there is Cadet Uhura now, and Spock finds his human half desiring to pursue her against his Vulcan half’s better judgment. He makes a mental note to examine Starfleet fraternization regulations, as he neglected to do so several nights past. It is unlike him for something to slip his mind, but his behavior towards Cadet Uhura is atypical as a whole, so he feels he cannot judge himself too harshly.

⋘⋙

There are many nights Nyota returns after class or simply stays late to finish work. It's almost companionable, the time she spends with the commander and the meals they end up sharing in the evening light. Nyota’s attraction to the commander does not fade, despite her small hope that she will want only friendship from someone she is not sure can give her what she wants.

Gaila is always ragging on Nyota to go out and get drunk with her again, but Nyota is firm. She is not repeating that night from last semester, and she is most certainly not going to drunkenly discuss her feelings about Commander Spock again. Gaila tells Nyota she works too much, and Nyota says, “Of course I do,” and comes back almost late enough Gaila doesn’t really have to tell her to stay out.

She asks him one night if he has anyone that minds him staying late, and immediately bites her lip. She should not have pried into the commander’s personal life.

He looks up at her, says “No,” and returns to his work, and there is some knot of unknowing in Nyota’s chest that eases. She is curious as to why he does not have a bondmate, or what happened to separate them, but she isn't going to put her foot in her mouth any farther. For all she knows, his bondmate could have died in some terrible accident, or his bondmate rejected him- Nyota forces herself to stop the spiral of thoughts.

“I don't either,” she says, afraid to watch his reaction. She instead watches a tremor of anxiety shake through her arm.

There is only silence from him, but she swears there is warmth in his voice when he bids her goodnight an hour later.

⋘⋙

The next day is Friday, and Nyota would breathe a sigh of relief if she didn’t have to write a twenty-page paper for Advanced Phonology over the weekend  _ and _ grade tests all day with Commander Spock. Her work hours are something of a joke, but she notices that he does pay her overtime. It’s not more than her normal hourly wage, of course, but she wouldn’t expect anything else from the Academy. Starfleet is intent on trying to get rid of anyone who isn't completely dedicated through too much homework, Nyota has decided, and student employment is another form of slavery.

She hates herself for the thought she has as she slides into her chair that morning.  _ I would probably do this for free _ . The commander is a good companion, even when silence settles between them. Maybe it’s because they can be silent together and Nyota doesn’t feel like she needs to fill the space that she likes his company. She needs the money, though, so she’s not going to tell the commander that she wishes to work free of charge. That would be foolish and he would likely refuse anyways.

“Good morning, Commander,” Nyota says.

“Good morning, Cadet,” he replies, and their formality sounds so ridiculous to Nyota that she wants to laugh. He sent her an article he thought would be pertinent to her paper she has to do this weekend this morning at 0204. She shouldn’t have been awake, but she was finishing Cardassian homework and ended up reading this fascinating discussion on the usage of Klingon in the Federation. 

Nyota feels that they’ve spent enough time together on a superficial level to call each other by their first names. It’s not even because she really wants to hear him say her name; just that if the commander were human, they would not continue to call each other commander and cadet. But she keeps this to herself. Commander Spock is her employer, and would likely dismiss the notion as improper conduct. Besides, to allow herself to address him informally is to allow herself to slip into a greater sense of familiarity, and she thinks it’s unwise while she still has feelings for Commander Spock.

She doesn’t want to go to her first class, or her second, but she commands herself to pay attention and not think of the way the sunlight makes the commander’s eyelashes look. Nyota has better ways to spend her time than think about him, but she finds herself not caring about that and she almost says something incredibly embarrassing in Vulcan when Lieutenant Gritek asks her to explain the secondary purpose of Yaves’ research colony on Delta Vega. She doesn’t, but she flushes as she explains.

She drops her stylus as she’s tapping it against the back of her hand while she reads over a student’s essay that afternoon. Before she can catch it, it rolls under the commander’s bookcase.

“Fuck,” Nyota says, and immediately claps her hand over her mouth. Commander Spock raises both his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He’s laughing at her, and she wants to die a little bit.

“I’ll get it,” she insists as the commander rises from his chair.

He doesn’t sit back down though, and she stands with her own chair pushed back slightly, feeling awkward as the commander kneels on the floor of his office. Nyota is not looking at his ass; not one bit. She’s very firmly looking at that picture on his bookcase, and it finally clicks who the woman is.

It’s Amanda Grayson, who married the Vulcan ambassador to Earth forty years ago. Nyota’s seen her picture countless times in articles about the universal translator, remembers newscasts from Vulcan she watched where her husband Sarek appeared. They have a son, and she remembers something about him being the first Vulcan to join Starfleet. This is Amanda Grayson and Ambassador Sarek’s son whose ass she was just staring at. Something in her says  _ oh _ and she remembers every time she’s thought the commander’s somewhat human actions were due to his prolonged time among her species. He’s not completely Vulcan, and the hope that he might return her feelings blossoms a little brighter in her chest.

The commander is holding Nyota’s stylus out to her, and she takes it, absentmindedly wondering how much he actually indulges his human side. She isn’t really looking at his hand when she grabs for her stylus, instead studying his face for signs of his mother’s features, and their fingers brush for a moment.

His mind is clean and somehow tinged blue, every thought in its place and numbers filing in neat lines across it. There is a bright fizz of yellow, and Nyota can’t breathe for a moment, because it’s  _ her _ that’s exploding in his mind, disrupting the perfect order of his thoughts. She can see the movement she makes as she tugs down that damn skirt for the one hundred and thirteenth time, the smile she wore when she came to him after her Intermediate Phonology midterm, and every single time she’s fiddled with her earrings. 

There’s several memories of the sun on her hair, the way she chews on the end of her stylus when she’s forgotten gum. He likes that evening he helped her with her homework, used every opportunity to watch her. It pleases him when she speaks Vulcan, the softness of her mouth around the clean syllables of his native language. She fascinates him, mind and body. The thoughts he’s had about her body-

Nyota pulls back as if she’s been stabbed, reeling with these revelations.

The commander stares at her, his mouth a little open. He shuts it.

“I apologize, Cadet Uhura. I mean no disrespect.”

Nyota is grasping at straws, trying to formulate words.

“ _ Oh my goddess _ ,” she says in Orion, then “ _ What has just occurred leaves me without argument, _ ” in Tellarite. Several more expressions of disbelief tumble from Nyota’s mouth before she finally gets out in Standard, “It’s fine.”

That’s really not what she wants to say, not at all, and she sighs in frustration. The commander’s brow is furrowed, and he hasn’t moved.

“Did you look in my head?” she finally whispers.

“I would not be so impolite as to pry,” he says, and Nyota really wants to kiss him right then, more than she normally does.

“You can,” she says, and holds out her slightly sweaty hand. Maybe she should have wiped it on her skirt first, but she needs him to know what she’s held inside her for so many months now.

The commander pauses a moment before his fingers touch hers lightly and she feels the heat of his body again. He feels cool and dark like a river stone as he touches her mind. She can feel his restrained curiosity at how organized her brain is for a human mind and hears his intake of breath as he finds the thoughts of him.

The commander is gentle, unobtrusive, and meticulous. It’s only a couple of seconds while he flicks through her observations of him, and Nyota wants to melt into the floor. He’s looking intently at her face the entire time he is inside her brain. She feels somehow less flayed open in this moment than she did when Gabriel stepped inside her room at Christmas.

“While we are alone, it is permissible to refer to me as Spock,” he says, all that careful evenness gone from his voice. He catches her eyes, and Nyota isn’t uncomfortable while he stares at her.

“Nyota,” he says. His tongue flicks across his bottom lip.

“Spock,” she replies, and her eyes dart to where their fingers are still touching.

His hand inches forward to rest against hers, palm to palm, and he takes a step forward. Nyota’s head tilts to the side in question.

“May I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” Nyota breathes out and then his lips are on hers for too little time. It’s a little awkward, but she can feel the happiness racing through her body from where their hands touch. One of his hands rests on her neck, his index finger resting on her fluttering pulse. The last two fingers of his hand slip beneath her collar ever so slightly.

She makes a small noise when she sets her heels on the floor again and their lips part. The commander- Spock is looking at her and she is aching with joy. His cheeks are tinged pale green and Nyota wants to cry a little bit, she’s so happy. But he is still a commander and she a cadet. There is uncertainty as to what this action actually means.

“I-I’m not sure what to do,” Nyota blurts out, and her hand pulls away from Spock’s. He’s still standing incredibly close, and the warmth coming off of him makes her wonder how sweaty she would get in bed with him. She really needs to not think about that right now. They kissed, and he likes her back, really likes her, but she doesn’t even know what that means in the grand scheme of things.

“If you would clarify, Nyota,” and her name is so soft in his mouth she can’t think straight.

“You’re a commander, and I’m a cadet. I’m also currently your TA. I don’t- I don’t know Starfleet regulations about this kind of thing. If this even is a thing, now,” Nyota adds hurriedly.

“I have taken the time to look into this kind of ‘thing,’ and while you are in my employ, it is against the rules. However, so long as there is no appearance of favoritism, there is nothing condemning relationships between superior officers and their subordinates.”

“Oh,” Nyota says as this information settles into her skin.

“ _ Oh, _ ” she says again, taking a step backwards. “It’s three weeks until the end of the semester.” 

Nyota is already imagining every single day spent in Spock’s presence, filled with their awareness of each other’s feelings and inability to do anything about it. She’s never wanted to break the rules so badly in her entire life.

“We had better- We need to finish grading,” she says, and her hands are twisting at her sides, happiness and anxiety mixed together crawling out of her body.

So they return to their seats, and the commander occasionally glances up at Nyota to catch her eyes. Lieutenant Morrisey walks in right as Nyota smiles so broadly her face hurts. He looks at Spock, whose face is suddenly blank, and back at Nyota, who is very busy scribbling a comment on a student’s padd.

“Am I interrupting something?” The lieutenant has a knowing smirk on his face that Nyota is too busy to notice.

“What do you require, Lieutenant?” Spock is irritated at his intrusion, and allows a hint of that irritation to translate into his clipped syllables.

“Dean Stuart wants to see you in her office. I was just there and she sent me along as a messenger. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about Cadet Uhura, sir.”

“There is nothing to report,” Spock says stiffly, and rises. “I will be there shortly.”

Nyota is definitely watching his ass in those grey slacks as he leaves the room.

⋘⋙

He touches her hand again as she leaves that night, and she knows it’s on purpose because he sends her the taste of her lips and the scent of her skin.

“You can’t do that,” Nyota says, smiling despite her best efforts to keep a straight face. “No fraternization is permitted.”

“A simple touching of hands is not fraternization,” Spock replies. His mouth is quirked up at the edge and Nyota knows he is just as happy as she is.

⋘⋙

She screeches a little when she opens the door to her dorm room. Gaila looks up from her padd, a questioning look on her face. Nyota babbles out, “He kissed me!” before she squats on the floor with her face in her hands.

“He likes me back,” she says to an astonished Gaila. “He likes me back,” she repeats, still unable to fully believe what she knows to be true.

“Nyota! Tell me everything!”

Gaila sits on the floor with her friend until Nyota finishes her mostly intelligible story.

“You owe me thanks,” Gaila says at last. “Whose idea was it for you to be his TA?”

“Thank you, Gaila,” Nyota says sincerely. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so- I have a paper to write and I don’t know if I can concentrate because I’ve kissed him now, and all I want to do is think about the soft press of his lips on mine. There wasn’t even any tongue involved, and shit, now I’m thinking about that.”

⋘⋙

It’s 2200, and Nyota really should go straight to sleep so she can wake up early, run, and pound out this essay tomorrow. Instead, she lies awake long after Gaila has turned off her light and her breathing evens out. She can’t stop replaying every second of their interaction this evening. It’s absolutely the best thing to happen to her since Earl was born, and she can’t stop smiling and wondering exactly how she’s going to last three weeks unable to do anything now that she knows her stupid feelings are reciprocated. Her smile dims at the thought of Earl. Sanaa. God, she’s going to call Sanaa tomorrow night.

There’s two routes she can take. One: She tells Sanaa the bare minimum like she did at Christmas. That Spock kissed her and they’re definitively going to be something when she’s no longer working for him in a couple of weeks. 

Or two, Nyota tells her sister everything and faces her worst nightmare: Sanaa becomes distant, or worse, won’t talk to her anymore. Nyota is unsure of how deep her sister’s prejudice runs, if Sanaa will just make jokes in bad taste all the time, or if she will actually shun her sister.

Nyota decides to make the call with Gaila there for support. She isn’t positive that Sanaa will go so far as to cut her off, but Nyota would almost rather that than a sister who was so judgemental and close-minded. But she didn’t want to lie anymore. That was stupid and cowardly of her, and she felt she owed it to herself to be honest. Nyota finally drifts asleep at 0139, her thoughts on her sister and Spock.

She dreams that Sanaa won’t let her see Earl anymore, that Rebecca just looks at her with sadness in her eyes. Nyota wakes up in a sweat at 0604. She runs longer than she normally does, trying to get out her fear and frustration in the morning damp. It works some;, enough that she can concentrate on her essay. She barely moves from her spot in the library all day, and she only has six pages left when she finally listens to her stomach and gets dinner at 2025.

Nyota is exhausted when she powers off her padd finally (she still has three pages left for tomorrow) and begins her walk back to her dorm. She really wants to go to sleep, but Gaila is waiting for her, and so is Sanaa.

Gaila sits next to her while Nyota listens to the chirp of her communicator. Sanaa picks up quickly.

“Hey there, Nyota. How’s my favorite baby sister doing?"

“I worked on an essay all day, so I’m tired, but besides that, I’m good.” Nyota takes a shaky breath and Gaila squeezes her hand.

“Sanaa, I need to tell you something.”

“Sure, honey. You know you can tell me anything. What is it?”

Nyota’s hands are shaking. 

Gaila mouths, “I’m here.”

Nyota takes a deep breath and pushes it out her nostrils.

“You remember how I told you about my crush on that commander? And I’m his TA this semester?”

“Mmhmm. You also told me how you’re drowning under the amount of work he gives you. What about him?”

“Well, I found out that he likes me back. And he kissed me. Which was really nice. We can’t do anything until the semester’s over because of Starfleet regulations, but I’m happy. I can wait a couple of weeks, I think.”

“Nyota,” Sanaa says, mock scandal in her voice. “You got a superior officer to kiss you? Naughty naughty.”

Nyota is trying to breathe as evenly as she can, but she feels like she’s about to faint.

“There’s something else you should know,” she says, her heart in her throat. “His name is Spock, and he’s- he’s a Vulcan. Well, half Vulcan, really. He has a human mother, and I only just figured it out yesterday afternoon before he kissed me, which is stupid really, because I’ve been staring at that photo of her in his office for months now-”

Nyota is babbling, trying to postpone her sister’s reaction. She falls silent though at the noise Sanaa makes in the back of her throat. She can’t see Sanaa’s face, but she can imagine her older sister’s throat working as she is about to give one of her speeches. Instead, Sanaa’s voice is suddenly a little too bright.

“That’s nice, Nyota. Is he able to be everything you want him to be?”

Nyota’s ear hurts a little with the almost screech of her sister’s voice. This is not good, not at all. The heavy feeling in her stomach gets worse and she swallows the lump in her throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Sanaa?”

“I mean, if he isn’t human, can he really be good for you? Does he know about you being on the spectrum? Does he even have a capacity to deal with human complexities? I’m worried about this. What if all that Vulcan privacy means he has some freaky sex needs you don’t know about, or what if he can’t fulfill your sex needs? What if you aren’t even sexually compatible? I’m concerned about you, Nyota. I don’t think you’ve thought this through thoroughly at all.”

“Sanaa-” Nyota is trying desperately not to cry. “-No, we haven’t talked that much, because we only just found out our feelings were reciprocated yesterday. He’s been inside my brain, and he’s seen who I am, and he didn’t say anything about the way my brain works. He  _ likes _ my stims, is fascinated by my brain, and turned on by my intelligence. I also somehow don’t believe our currently non-existent sex life is any of your fucking business, even if it becomes suddenly existent. Sanaa, you’re being such an asshole. I was afraid to tell you this, and I was right to be.” Nyota sniffs and smears her tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry I hoped you were better than what I feared. Tell Earl and Rebecca I love them.”

She closes her communicator and a sob escapes her mouth.

“I was such an idiot to believe that Sanaa wouldn’t be an asshole,” Nyota gasps out as she reaches for her blanket. She needs comfort, and to not think about what this means for her and her sister’s relationship. Maybe it’s idiotic to choose a not-even relationship over the person who means family more than anyone else, but maybe Sanaa shouldn’t have been so- Nyota can’t even think of a word right now. Her head hurts, and she’s still crying, and Gaila is looking at her so concernedly that she wants to cry even harder.

“I hate crying,” Nyota says vehemently.

“I know,” Gaila says. “You also hate feelings. You just did a really hard thing, you know. Sanaa was wrong to say that. Do you want a hug? Some alcohol? Some time alone with your vibrator?”

Nyota laughs through her blurry vision. “A hug would be nice.”

Gaila gathers her up into her lap and holds her tightly. Nyota finds herself relaxing and a little bit horny.

“Are you using your pheromones on me?” she mumbles into Gaila’s shoulder. “I was definitively not horny a minute ago.”

“Sorry, but you needed to calm down. My pheromones can do that. There’s just only so much I can tone down the sexual part of them. Are you okay with that? I should have asked your permission first; I just wanted to help. Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s good Gaila. Thank you. But if you turn it up any higher, I will need some alone time with my vibrator.”

They laugh together, and Nyota’s chest feels a little lighter. She’s not sure exactly what she would do without Gaila.

⋘⋙

Nyota’s family remains silent, her inbox empty and her communicator free of any voice messages. Maybe Sanaa hasn’t told them, but Nyota doubts it. She doesn’t see Spock again until Monday afternoon, and by then she’s decided they need to talk a lot about what exactly is going to happen in three weeks. She marches into his office and sets down her bag with purpose. It softens a little when she looks at his stiff back and slanted eyebrows.

“We need to talk,” Nyota says, and she hates how open she feels. 

_ It’s okay. He likes you back _ , she reassures herself. 

“About us. Whatever us means. I need some clarification as to what we’re going to be when the semester is over and I’m no longer in your employ.”

Spock looks at her, his face impassive.

“If you would close my door, Cadet Uhura,” he says, no emotion in his voice, no acknowledgement of what she just said. Nyota hits the button and clutches her padd, her navy blue fingernails and brown skin complementing the aqua of the screen.

“I, too, had desired some further communication as to the nature of our relationship. I have not entered into a relationship with a human before, and I would not be certain as to what that relationship would entail.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Nyota says. “I understand that you have Vulcan diplomacy built into your blood, and I’ve learned plenty of ways to be polite, but I really don’t want to beat around the bush here. There are some things you should know.”

She hasn’t sat down yet, and doesn’t really want to. She likes looking down at him.

“I do not have plans to cause physical damage to any shrubbery, Nyota,” Spock says, and his own mouth twitches. 

Nyota giggles a little despite herself. “Stop making jokes and let me talk, Spock. Please.”

The commander acquiesces with a nod.

“You should know that I’m not- I think differently than other humans. I know you were polite and didn’t look in my other memories, but I think showing you would be better than explaining. I want you to know that I’m not even the typical human experience you could be having, that my brain works differently.”

Nyota steps forward and holds out her hand, and Spock takes it without hesitation. The soft darkness of his mind is soothing and the tendrils he loops around the memories she chooses are gentle and cool. He expresses slight confusion as to her obsession with bugs at such a young age, and her illogical insistence on having her blanket on her at all times. Spocks’ brow furrows slightly at the repetition of  _ not like my other daughters _ year after year. 

He latches onto the word autism, connects it to her loneliness and aloofness from her peers, drawing parallels with dark lines from interaction to interaction. Nyota carefully does not include her most recent memories of Sanaa, wishing to keep her fear and pain as distant as possible from him at this moment.

It could be two minutes or twenty before he withdraws from the recesses of Nyota Uhura’s mind. It takes a moment for his connections to disappear and her to focus on the touching of their fingers. She remembers that she’s literally been kissing him this entire time and pulls her hand away quickly.

“Fascinating,” is all Spock says at first, and then, “I am uncertain as to what the purpose of this information has been. Clarify.”

She’s a little frustrated by his inability to understand what she’s trying to say. “Spock, I’m saying that if you don’t want to deal with my illogical behavior and weird habits that serve no purpose, I’m not going to blame you. I know I’m a lot to deal with, and- I don’t want you to feel like you deserve someone more, well- normal.”

Spock’s brows nearly meet in the middle of his forehead. “Nyota, this information you have offered me about yourself is not displeasing. Your behavior is not logical to other humans perhaps, but your habits, ‘stims’ as you call them, do serve a purpose. They soothe you when you need them to, and help you to better process the world around you. Now, you had mentioned the nature of our relationship previously, and I would prefer we discussed it as well.”

“Oh,” Nyota replies. It hadn’t occurred to her that Spock would view her behavior as anything but illogical. “Well then, I want to date you. I just really, really like you, and I want to spend time with you. I’m pretty private, too, you know. We don’t have to tell anyone. I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea if other students know. Appearance of favoritism and all that. We can just be ourselves, together. If that’s amenable,” she adds, smiling a little.

“It is,” he says, reaching for her hand. He sends Nyota a perfectly encapsulated burst of happiness that leaves her a little breathless.

“We should get to work,” Nyota says, after her fingertips have stopped tingling and her face hurts from smiling.

“Yes,” Spock says, and doesn’t stop looking at her. “It will be important to practice restraint in the upcoming weeks.”

“I know,” she replies softly. She hasn’t stopped looking at him either.

“The guidelines exist for perfectly valid reasons.”

“They do. It is improper to engage in such behavior with my employer.”

They’re still staring at each other, and Nyota hasn’t moved a single inch towards her chair a couple feet away.

“Would it be untoward for an employer to ask his employee for her communicator ID?”

“No, I think that’s perfectly within the bounds of acceptable behavior. After all, you may need to call me about some work-related inquiry after my work hours have terminated.”

“Indeed,” Spock says, and both his eyebrows are nearly hitting the straight line of hair across his forehead.

His communicator is exactly the same as hers, except it’s hot from where was resting against his body, and her hand heats from the warmth of it. She enters her ID number, and puts her first name only as her contact name. Spock is careful when he takes it back, and there is not any accidental or on purpose touching.

“Work,” Nyota says, and smiles.

“Indeed.”

⋘⋙

They manage to make it a week with smiles and maybe some accidental touching, and far, far too much staring before Spock calls her. It’s Saturday night, and Sanaa hasn’t called Nyota yet. Nyota is not going to be the first to initiate contact after their last conversation, so she nearly jumps out of her skin when her communicator starts to buzz. Nyota’s breathing evens only a little when she sees an unfamiliar ID scroll across her screen.

“Hello?”

“Greetings, Cadet Uhura. Are you currently occupied?”

“Commander Spock, what a pleasant surprise!” Nyota gestures wildly at Gaila, who sighs and puts on clothes.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes,” Nyota replies firmly, and looks pointedly at Gaila, who is shoving her feet into her boots. It’s only a second before Gaila is out the door, and Nyota is actually alone. She feels a little giddy.

“Are you burdened with large amounts of homework?”

“No, not really. I pretty much always clear time on Saturday nights anyways. I normally call my sister right now.”

“Do you require me to terminate this call?”

“No.” Nyota grabs at the corner of her blanket and starts rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. “We aren’t really talking right now.”

“Do you wish to discuss it?”

Nyota pinches the bridge of her nose, pausing in her time-worn ritual that has always soothed her. Does she want to talk about it? If it’s Spock, maybe.

“Why did you call me?” She temporarily sidesteps his question. She needs to make sure he doesn’t have an agenda, that she isn’t going to disrupt his schedule for the evening.

“I confess I do not have a reason besides the fact that the sound of your voice is not unpleasant. You did not answer my query, Nyota. Do you wish to discuss the matter of your sister?"

Nyota sighs. It’s not like there’s anyone else to tell and Spock just said he called her to listen to her voice, which is pretty sweet.

“If you’re willing to listen. It’s about you, kind of.”

“I am willing. I am intrigued by the manner of my involvement. If you would elaborate.” He adds after an intake of breath, “Please.”

He sounds so human like this, with distance between them and their shared medium of conversation pressed against their cheeks. Nyota wonders if he’s sitting on his own bed, and quickly dismisses the thought. Spock wouldn’t relax. He’s probably standing, stiff and straight, or working while he calls her.

“Okay,” she says, and she tells him. He is silent while she recounts her sister’s lack of understanding and acceptance. Nyota almost doesn’t mention the sexual needs thing, but does anyways, feeling strangely liberated by the distance between them. She blushes, and is sure he does the same.

Spock’s voice sounds a little strained when he replies.

“You are correct in your statement that it is not necessary for your sister to know any details of our physical relationship, in whatever state it happens to be in. It is illogical for her bigotry to appear under the guise of concern. She was incorrect to make such postulations about human and Vulcan compatibility. My mother and father have been married for 40.73 Terran years now. I am not proposing that our relationship will end in marriage, but I would present this fact for your consideration.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says, and she means it, even if she isn’t saying it in Vulcan. She really doesn’t want to talk about their  _ physical relationship _ anymore, so she doesn’t say anything else for a minute. The silence grows to tangle in her tongue until she doesn’t want to say anything about anything. She just wants to sit here and listen to him breathe. It’s not even that late, but she wants to fall asleep listening to the even rhythm of Spock’s breathing.

He finally breaks the silence.

“I believe that it is customary to share similar situations of discomfort at such a time. My father and I disagreed on my application to Starfleet,” he offers. “We do not talk besides when my mother requires us to. He believes that my decision was a betrayal to my Vulcan heritage. I chose to follow a course of action that was not customary for a Vulcan, but it was not my intention to reject one-half of my lineage.”

“ _ Naat na’du _ . Thank you (literally ‘respect to you’),” she whispers. Nyota knows this is important. She wasn’t expecting Spock to be vulnerable in return, and it makes her heart swell.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” she says a little louder. “It must be difficult.”

“ _ Ish-veh nam-tor wuh rivak t' vel.  _ It is the course of things,” he says in reply. It’s the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, and Nyota wonders how indifferent Spock would be if she could see his thoughts.

“I like it when you talk in Vulcan,” Nyota says. Very quickly, she mumbles, “It’s kind of hot.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s kind of hot when you speak Vulcan,” she repeats, a little louder. Nyota buries her face in her hand. She shouldn’t have said that, but she’s feeling kind of risky after being emotionally vulnerable.

There’s only silence in Nyota’s ear, and she can’t even hear him breathing anymore. She panics a little and checks to make sure Spock hasn’t hung up on her. He hasn’t, though, so she returns her communicator to her ear.

“Nyota,” he says, and his voice is too controlled for her to hear any slight nuance of tonality. “I believe it unwise to make such statements while you are still in my employ.”

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have said it. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Nyota, my comfort is not the matter at hand. The issue at present is that I could be stripped of my rank and you could be expelled if anyone happened to be listening. It was ill-advised of me to call you tonight. I ought to bid you goodnight right now and act as if you did not just utter those words.”

“Spock, I’m sorry, I’m tired. I know it was inappropriate. Good night.”

“I do not desire to presently be alone.” Spock says, his voice loosening slightly. “I merely wished to impress upon you the importance of a semblance of professionalism until your time as my teaching assistant is concluded.”

_ Oh my god _ , Nyota mouths. Spock was turned on by her saying that. Is he turned on by her speaking his native language? She is  _ so _ screwed.

“Are you turned on by the thought of me speaking Vulcan, preferably while we are in some state of undress?”

It’s uncalled for, and a poor decision, but it’s left her mouth and there’s no taking it back.

“Cadet Uhura,” Spock’s voice is uneven despite his best attempts, “if you refuse to desist, I will be forced to terminate our conversation.”

“You are,” Nyota almost crows. She’s blushing furiously right now. Spock wants to get naked and speak Vulcan together. It’s like some linguist’s wet dream. She’s going to need a cold shower after she digs in her sock drawer tonight.

“Good night, Cadet Uhura.”

Spock stares at the screen of his communicator, Nyota’s name shimmering slightly in front of his eyes. He requires a lengthy period of meditation tonight after her repeated attempts to ascertain his response to her ability to speak Vulcan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s be real here, I didn’t want to write months of tension and questioning and pining. I’m here to write some good old-fashioned fluff. Angst… well if it’s not between the couple, it’s cool, yeah?
> 
> I need to address something very important: Sanaa’s xenophobia is meant as a plot device and nothing more. My beta and my best friend are queer and I am not, and I sought their advice about this decision. 
> 
> I would like to be incredibly clear here: in the Star Trek future, homophobia isn’t a thing anymore. We as humanity have moved past it. The real bigotry issue is xenophobia in this future.
> 
> Here are (verbatim) my text messages with my best friend:
> 
> Me: I want to make the point that anyone can be bigoted like the point is that bigotry is pointless. It's like black people being homophobic if that makes sense?
> 
> My best friend: Personally I'm okay with the way you did it because I agree with what you are doing. Also like,,,there is so much racism and shit in the LGBT community like we aren't perfect in any way. I mean, there are ppl in LGBT who are literally transphobic so I see no issue with someone who is gay and xenophobic
> 
> Me: okay I really really don't want to be stepping out of my lane. (redacted because spoilers for the sequels)
> 
> My best friend: Exactly. And like that's currently an issue in the LGBT community with like racism so it makes sense.
> 
> I understand this might not be a big deal for a lot of you, but it is my job as an ally to be careful. Me seeking out actual queer people for their opinion and advice is important. I would like to thank LieutenantSaavik and my best friend for being helpful and for being wonderful people!


	8. softly the two names lingered in the air

Nyota’s comm goes off the Tuesday of finals week while she’s in the middle of class, so she apologizes and turns it off. She has exactly ten minutes to grab lunch and run to Spock’s office, so she doesn’t check it immediately after she gets out. She remembers to check her comm after her salad has been consumed and three padds are in the pile for Spock to go over now that’s she finished with them.

She absentmindedly flips her comm open and drops her stylus when she sees who called. It was Eshe, and Nyota immediately knows that it’s either about her and Spock or an emergency of some kind. Eshe doesn’t call her, even with their somewhat easier interactions as of late. Eshe didn’t leave a message, but Nyota is not expecting good news, so she isn’t surprised.

Nyota doesn’t take breaks. One of the reasons she and Spock can work so well together is because she pushes herself as unrelentingly as he does until the task before them is complete. Still, something compels her to call Eshe back.

“Spock, I need to step out for a moment to call my sister.”

“Sanaa? I had the understanding that you and her were not speaking currently.”

“No, not Sanaa. Eshe. I’ll be five minutes, maybe less. She just never calls, and it might be important.”

Spock nods, but doesn’t say anything else, so Nyota pulls the hem of her skirt down slightly and walks quickly out of his office. The halls are empty, all the teachers in their offices or teaching class. Cadets are either in the library or taking a final, so there is no one she has to worry about overhearing her call.

“Eshe? What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Nyota! I tried to call earlier, but you must have been in class, because you didn’t answer.” Eshe sounds genuinely happy to hear her sister’s voice, and Nyota is wary. Eshe has not confirmed if something is wrong, and it’s freaking her out.

“I was, and then I had to run and get lunch, and then I was working. I’m still working, in fact, and I only have a couple minutes break. So please, say what you have to say, and quickly.”

“Oh, okay, I don’t want to intrude on your work. Sanaa said something about you being a TA?”

“Yes,” Nyota grits out. “Please just tell me why you called.”

“Oh, sorry. Sanaa told everyone about the Vulcan you’re dating? Or something? I don’t know what you or he call it, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need. I don’t know why Sanaa is so close-minded and pretending it’s to protect you. If he makes you happy, that’s good enough for me. Mom and Dad are- well, you can guess how Mom is. Dad hasn’t said anything at all, but he won’t say good things, so I don’t know. If you need a place this summer or just someone to talk to about your relationship, I’m available. I’m so sorry you’ve been placed in this awful situation. I know how close you and Sanaa have always been, and I can imagine that this is incredibly hard for you. Just, please. Let me know if I can do something for you. I’m here.”

Tears shimmer in Nyota’s eyes against her will. “Thank you, Eshe. Thank you. Thank you so much, but I’m staying here for the summer. I’ve sent my applications in for a couple of opportunities and I’m waiting to hear back. I am definitively staying here. Thanks, though. It means a lot to me.”

“Okay, so long as you’re set. Gabriel and I were worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. I love you, Nyota. You should send me a picture of the two of you okay? I’ll put it on my replicator door.”

“Oh, I- We’re not- We can’t officially be anything until I’m not his TA anymore,” Nyota says, furtively looking around to make sure no one is listening. “We’re kind of maybe breaking rules because we kissed once; well kind of a lot of times, if you count Vulcan kissing-”

“Whoa, whoa, stop right there. I don’t really want to know what you two get up to. Just be safe, huh? A teacher? Who would have thought you would go after an officer? Get it, Nyota!”

“Stop it, Eshe. It’s not because he’s an officer. He’s just really good looking, intelligent and honestly kind- I’m going to stop. He’s private and I’m not about to reveal any emotional stuff without his permission. I need to go. Thank you a million times over for being so cool about it.”

“Of course, Nyota. He sounds nice. Keep in touch, okay?”

“I will,” Nyota says. Then, after careful thought, “I love you, Eshe.”

“Love you too, Nyota.”

Nyota stares at her boots for a few too many seconds and wipes the tears from her face. Spock is looking at her when she steps back inside.

“I did not wish to invade your privacy, but I am in possession of better hearing than human ears. You may desire to be informed of the fact that I overheard the entirety of your conversation, and most of what your sister said.”

“Oh,” Nyota says, and quickly tries to remember if she said anything she really didn’t want him to hear. “Um. I’m not mad. It’s alright that you heard. I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”

“You mentioned kissing, and your sister suggested you should ‘be safe.’” There is definitely a faint green tinge to Spock’s cheeks, but he holds her gaze steadily.

“She did,” Nyota says faintly, and touches her lips with her first two fingers.

“You have work to attend to and a final in two hours,” Spock says firmly.

“I do.”

“Time is better spent in work then in frivolous thought,” he says, as if he is convincing not only Nyota, but himself.

⋘⋙

Time seems to compress and stretch all at once. The hours she spends finishing her final essays and taking tests fly by all too quickly, but the hours she spends grading with Spock seem to take twice the amount of time. They’re both distracted by each other’s presence, which is both a good and a bad thing. Spock hasn’t called since that night when he hung up on her, and Nyota hasn’t dared to call him again, not while they’re still in a compromising position. 

So she sits hour after hour in his presence, itching to touch him, to talk to him about something besides work. She wonders if Spock feels the same, or if he’s gone on lockdown so he doesn’t have to deal with the annoyance of feelings. Nyota has envied the Vulcan ability to not feel in the past, but right now, she wants to feel everything, and she wants to feel it with him.

The moment she hands him the last padd on Friday, she says, “Pay me now.”

Spock blinks at her for a second. “At this precise moment, you wish me to transfer your salary to your account?”

“Yes, I do. I want to kiss you goodnight. Now.”

“I will deposit your pay for the last two weeks immediately.”

“Good.”

Nyota waits until her padd processes the payment, a tortuous minute before she receives the notification that her account has more credits than it used to have in it. She’s feeling a little pushy after so many hours working in a confined space with Spock, knowing the way they feel about each other and unable to do anything about it. She  _ wants _ right now, and she’s going to get what she wants after an interminable wait.

“Now come kiss me. If that’s amenable,  _ Commander _ .”

Nyota is feeling odd and can’t explain what was happening in her brain if she wants to. Spock’s eyes are dark, and she can’t tell if it’s just the lighting or something else, and she doesn’t really care. He stands up and pushes back his chair, a fluid movement despite his rigid posture, and she’s breathing a little heavier than she was a minute ago. Spock walks around his desk, taking precise steps until he is standing in front of her.

Nyota rises to meet him, and this kiss is different than their first one. It’s hungry, his lips working over hers with purpose. Spock’s hands wrap around her shoulder and waist, and he’s sending her the feeling of her body beneath his hands. It’s heady, feeling her own response in conjunction with his, and she presses closer to him, insistent for more. His hands are huge and she’s sweating a little from his warmth, but she doesn’t care. It’s good and she doesn’t want to stop.

It’s Spock who breaks their kiss finally. Nyota sighs in disappointment, resting her forehead on his chest.

“Now, that was a kiss goodnight,” she says, smiling into the gray of his uniform. She pulls back to look up at Spock. His cheeks are a pale green, and his breathing is uneven.

“Indeed,” he says, with almost no control over his tone, and it wrecks Nyota the way his voice is so low and raspy.

“I need to sleep,” she says. “I have a schedule.”

“As do I,” Spock says, and if she wasn’t ready to jump him a minute ago, she is now. His  _ voice _ .

“Goodnight.”

Nyota doesn’t take a step backward. Neither does Spock. He raises his eyebrow and stares at her lips.

“Perhaps it would be wise to conduct further research as to the physical nature of our relationship,” he says, and slowly slides away, “at a later point in time when you are not exhausted from the strain of school.”

“Soon.” Nyota bites her lip, slightly swollen from how thoroughly she was kissing him. “Soon, Spock.”

“Would dinner tomorrow night be amenable? There is a restaurant nearby that my mother prefers when she visits.”

“Yes, yes it would be. I-I’ve never had Vulcan food.”

“The restaurant is not Vulcan cuisine. My mother tells me that nostalgia makes her want to eat sandwiches when she is on Earth. She often indulges for nostalgia’s sake when she visits.”

“Oh okay. That sounds nice. Sandwiches are fine. Do they have vegetarian options for you?”

“A number of their sandwiches are free of animal products.”

“That’s good, then. What time tomorrow night?”

“Would 1800 be suitable?”

“Yes,” Nyota says, and she can’t stop the smile that spreads to her hands.

“Wear something besides your dress uniform,” she says as she turns to get her bag. “It’s a date, not a Starfleet meeting.”

Spock inclines his head, whether in understanding or merely in recognition, she isn’t sure.

“ _ Sochya eh dif _ ,” Nyota says, when he does not offer her a goodnight or goodbye of any kind. She doesn’t want to say the beginning of the farewell, and would rather skip to the end of it. Spock actually smiles at her, the left half of his mouth completely upturned and his eyes are warm.

“Goodnight, Nyota.”

She practically skips all the way back to her dorm room, where she has to wait for twenty minutes while Gaila bangs some very noisy chick, and she almost doesn’t even mind because she’s thinking about dinner tomorrow night. A date, with Spock. And a not-very reserved kiss at all. Nyota doesn’t think she could be any happier.

⋘⋙

Gaila stares at Nyota, her mouth a little open.

“Since when did you get so pushy? From the way you tell it, the commander was about to take you on his desk.” Gaila fans herself. “I did Lieutenant Morrisey on his desk last semester. That was fun.”

“Gaila, I know you’ve had sex with most of the Academy; just please don't tell me about all of it. And we weren't going to have sex right then and there. I just loathed the idea of going another minute without kissing him. I'm a stickler for the rules, you know that, but he's- he's Spock. We’re going out to dinner tomorrow night. To his mom’s favorite place when she visits, apparently. Who knew Amanda Grayson had a thing for sandwiches?”

Nyota is trying to pretend the nerves aren't getting to her. What if she and Spock have great physical chemistry and terrible emotional chemistry? What if it really won't work out between them? What if the entirety of their date ends up being them eating and staring at their food?

“Gaila, maybe I've been going about it all wrong. Maybe I need to have sex before the relationship gets going. Our sexual chemistry is good, surprisingly, I mean- I don't actually want to talk about this with you, sorry. I just- I'm afraid our date is going to end in flames.”

“Nyota, you're good at everything you try to do. Your grades are fantastic, and apparently you're even good at kissing. You know more languages than anyone else in the xenolinguistics department, including the teachers. Do you want to borrow something of mine to wear?”

Nyota remembers every outfit Gaila has worn on the weekends. She shakes her head nearly immediately.

“Um, no. I’ll figure something out.”

⋘⋙

In the end, it's Nyota’s earrings that end up being the problem. She has ten pairs strewn across her dresser, and she cannot even think about which pair she wants to wear. She's frustrated that this is the thing she's getting overwhelmed about, and even more frustrated that she's on the verge of tears over a pair of damn earrings.

Gaila suggested any number of dresses for Nyota, who politely turned them down and chose a knee length lavender one.

“You should show some skin!” she yelled.

“It's cold,” Nyota had replied primly, and adjusted the cap sleeve on her left shoulder.

Now she's literally crying over earrings and she shouldn't wear any at all, really. She wants to crawl in bed and hide under her blanket. Dating Spock might have been a terrible idea.

“Nyota, are you alright?”

“No, I'm not. I can't fucking decide what pair of earrings to wear and I might as well stay home. I swear I'm falling apart over nothing.”

“It's okay. Do you want some help?”

“Please.” Nyota is sniffling and she's pretty sure she smeared her eyeshadow when she took a swipe at her eyes. She hates this, hates it so much. This is a moment she really wishes she didn't get overwhelmed over the stupidest things.

“What about this red pair? Red and purple are nice together.”

Nyota snatches the earrings from Gaila’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

“Your thanks are welcomed. You have eyeshadow on your cheek.”

“Ugh,” Nyota groans and drags herself to the mirror. She does, in fact, have gold eyeshadow smudged down her cheekbone. She carefully wipes it off and reapplies eyeshadow to her eyelids. Nyota stares at herself in the mirror.

“It's a date, not a murder. Eat a sandwich and talk about your favorite color. You can do this, Nyota.”

She checks the time on her comm. Spock won't be here for another ten minutes. She groans and decides to refresh her inbox for the umpteenth time to see if any of the internships she's applied for have replied. One of them has, and it’s a rejection letter due to her first-year status, so she decides to go outside and wait for Spock.

Nyota shivers slightly and tugs her jacket further around her as she stands on the steps outside her dorm. It’s supposed to rain later tonight, but she can’t find her umbrella anywhere, so she’ll just have to make a run for it when she gets back.

Spock shows up exactly on time, and Nyota grins at him. He’s wearing a thick sweater that can only be Vulcan make with the swoop of the collar and the color of the material. His trousers look soft, and are dark as well, and she thinks he looks even more handsome out of uniform.

“Good evening,” he says.

“Hello, Spock.” Nyota is fucking  _ blushing _ and ducking her head down. She feels like a thirteen year-old girl going on her first date with her first boyfriend, and  _ shit _ she totally is.  _ Deep breaths. It’s sandwiches. _

“Are we going to be walking?”

“It is too far for a comfortable walk. I am parked in the faculty lot.”

“Oh, okay.” Of course Spock has a car. She’s just never thought about it before, but it makes sense. He’s an officer and likely goes to HQ all the time. He probably shops downtown and takes his mom places when she visits.

“I trust your day so far has been acceptable?” Spock asks after they start walking towards the back of campus together.

“It’s been good. And yours?” 

Nyota is not good at small talk unless it has to do with languages. She can talk about the nuances of cultural expression in various words all day every day, but this stuff with the weather and how are you doing? She has maybe ten percent affinity for small talk out of necessity. It’s boring and she hates it, but she’s on a date. With Spock. It’s unavoidable really.

“Agreeable.”

There’s only the soft sound of their boots on the paved walkway and the brief burst of students leaving campus in twos and threes every so often. Nyota kind of wants to hold Spock’s hand, but she doesn’t think that’s a very appropriate Vulcan thing to do, and there are far too many cadets, so she keeps her hands to herself.

Spock can’t drive for more than six or seven minutes before he parks, and Nyota releases her unconsciously clenched fists. Her dress is only a little wrinkled, which is a relief. Spock opens her door for her, which means either his mother or some human must have taught him this custom. It irritates her only a little, because while she’s very capable of opening her own door, thank you very much, it’s kind of sweet.

“The restaurant is two and five-sevenths of a block north,” Spock says, sliding his keys into his pocket.

“I have no clue which way north is, so you’re going to have to lead the way,” she replies. God, she can’t stop smiling and she feels so stupid. But he looks so handsome in his clothes and he likes her back and they are on a real, honest to goodness  _ date _ and she might keel over and die before the night is over.

“I had assumed as much,” Spock says, and starts walking briskly down the hill. Nyota has to run a little bit to catch up to him, but it’s not the end of the world. There are a lot of people, and she’s a little afraid she’s going to lose him when they cross the first street, so she snags his sleeve and holds on. He turns to look, sensing the pull on the fabric, but faces forward again when he recognizes her brown fingers on the deep blue of his sweater.

Nyota’s nail polish is always chipped by the third day of wear. It’s because she picks at it, another one of her curious habits. She always starts at the edges of her nails and works her way inward, carefully piling the flakes of nail polish to toss in the receptacle at the end of her task. Nyota repaints them once a week, presumably on the weekend, because she has never appeared with a change of color in the middle of the week. Spock has noted she only owns or chooses to wear three colors on her nails: black, navy, and a deep purple that looks black in certain lighting. It’s this knowledge of the way her hands look and her routine that gives him no cause for alarm when he looks at her hand on his sleeve.

She’s smiling, and hasn’t really stopped since he first saw her this evening. The color of her dress compliments her skin tone in a way he hasn’t thought about before. It’s illogical to prefer one color over another, but the purple against the brown of her skin is pleasing, more so than the red of her uniform. 

Spock has never seen Nyota out of uniform, never having had the occasion to see her on the weekends. He can see a considerable amount of skin that is normally covered by the high neck of her uniform, and he does not find it disagreeable in the least. She looks like she always does except for her dress, her hair slicked back into a ponytail and her face subtly accented by cosmetics. Spock is not given to human expressions of beauty, but he feels the adjective breathtaking describes his constant reaction to Nyota. There’s some indescribable thing she holds in her being that drives him towards her and causes him to have difficulty regulating his breathing when she is around.

Last night was- unexpected. Nyota’s sudden demand for physical intimacy was not unwelcome, however. It remains unclear exactly how quickly she wants their physical relationship to progress, and she seemed to be uncomfortable discussing it, no matter the way she thought about his hands or the sounds she made with his tongue in her mouth. Spock quickly banishes those thoughts. He is not in a situation where those thoughts are appropriate or can be reciprocated. Nyota is looking around the sandwich shop curiously, and her hand is still attached to his sweater despite their arrival at their destination.

“You will not lose me. It is quite a small place.”

“Hmm?” Nyota doesn’t look at him. “Oh,” she says suddenly, and drops his sleeve like it’s on fire. “I just-” She feels like she cannot adequately explain herself, so she shrugs.

Spock doesn’t order a sandwich, even though there are more than a few vegetarian options. He gets a salad, and Nyota narrows her eyes slightly. She knows she’s picky, but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen Spock eat anything but brightly colored Vulcan food he made himself and the occasional salad. Maybe she’s finally met someone who’s pickier than she is.

Nyota insists on paying for her own meal, despite Spock’s insistence that his larger salary makes it logical for him to pay for the both of them. 

She carefully picks the mushrooms off of her sandwich and sets them aside. Spock watches her meticulous movement as she cleans her fingers off on her napkin, leaving the grey stained with dark brown from the replicated fungi.

“What?” She says when she catches him looking. “I loathe mushrooms. Replication has done nothing to make them taste any better.”

_ You fascinate me _ , he wants to say, but it seems too human to utter in public, and the way she cocks her head while she waits for him to reply leaves him feeling as if he is too human already.

“If you did not wish to eat the mushrooms on your sandwich, you could have asked them to make it without them,” he says instead.

“I didn’t want to be a bother,” she says, and there’s something off about the way she says it, as if she’s said this phrase too many times.

“It would not have been an overly difficult task for the kitchen staff. It is their job.”

“I know.” Nyota decides to change the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “So your mom likes to come here when she visits. Does she visit often?”

Spock is not unaware of her desire to talk about something else. “My father is here more often, but she usually accompanies him.”

“Have you told your mom about me?” Nyota isn’t even sure that they’re at that stage, but her entire family knows about Spock, and aren’t talking to her because of it, so she doesn’t feel too weird asking.

“I have mentioned you, yes.”

_ Spock talks to his mom about her.    
_

Nyota finishes her mouthful of sandwich, which is actually quite good now that the offending mushrooms have been removed.

“What have you said, exactly?”

“I have mentioned you as a student who offered stimulating discussion as well as a TA who performs above her expected duties. I have not mentioned,” he pauses here, setting his fork down, “the nature of our continuing relationship.”

“Okay,” Nyota says. “I was just curious. I- I hadn’t meant for my entire family to learn about-” she gestures vaguely, because she’s still not sure what’s happening besides they like each other and they’re on a date. “-Us. Sanaa was- she was-”

There’s a lump rising in her throat that she’s having a hard time swallowing. She takes a shaky breath in and manages to get out softly, “I didn’t want it to be that way, have everyone find out like that.”

Spock’s knee touches hers underneath the table. It’s him, so she knows it isn’t an accident. He doesn’t say anything or take another bite of his undressed salad, just watches her throat work and her hand creep to fiddle with her earring. His knee doesn’t break contact with hers while she tries to gather herself.

“I’m not ashamed of you, Spock. I don’t want you to think that. I wanted my parents to learn about you from me, and be happy for me. I really like you, Spock, a lot. I want you to stick around. It hurts knowing that my parents don’t want to hear about you. I’m pretty private, which means Gaila is basically the only person here at Starfleet who knows anything about me besides you. But when I want to share, I want to do it to an open audience, you know?”

Spock hands her his napkin to dry her tears.

“I understand your desire for a better response from your family.”

“Thank you.”

Nyota sniffs and dabs under her eyes. His knee hasn’t left hers, and his skin is hot through the fabric of his pants. She doesn’t want him to move.

She stares at the remainder of her sandwich. She doesn’t really feel like finishing it. Spock only has a few greens left on his plate. He’s not moving to eat them, and Nyota really wants ice cream.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” she says.

“You have not finished your sandwich.”

“I know that, Spock. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“If you are no longer hungry, it is illogical to eat more food, especially a food with such low nutritional value.”

Nyota slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder and slides out of the booth, smiling. Her knee is still warm from where he was touching her.

“The point isn’t the nutritional value, Spock. The point is I don’t have an appetite after crying, and I want some ice cream.”

Spock gathers their dishes neatly and deposits them in the garbage receptacle while Nyota waits for him. She steps outside onto the street, the warmth of him close behind her, before she realizes she has no idea where they are. She turns around and almost bumps into Spock, he’s standing so close.

“Oh, sorry,” she says hurriedly. “I have no clue where I can get some ice cream. I practically never leave campus and Gaila is always yelling at me to go out more, but I don’t. So. Do you know where to get some ice cream?”

He doesn’t, because as he previously stated, he has never sought to consume such a high calorie food that offers little nutritional value. Nyota decides that his perfect sense of direction can be their saving grace and sets off in an arbitrary direction. Spock follows her, and she almost wants to watch what it's like for him to follow her, but she’s on a mission.

There are still a lot of people on the street, but Nyota isn’t as worried about Spock losing her as she was about losing him. Maybe she should be, because he’s tall and obviously Vulcan, whereas she is below average height and one of many humans. She checks a couple of times just in case, though, her ponytail whipping around as she catches a glimpse of his broad shoulders and impassive face following her through the crowd.

She crosses three streets before she spots a place with ice cream advertised. Spock is only a step behind her when she pushes open the door. The woman behind the counter greets them, and Nyota turns to Spock.

“What do you want?”

“I am not partaking.”

“C’mon, Spock. You’re on a date with me. The least you can do is eat ice cream with me.”

He stares at her for fifteen seconds before he says, “Very well.”

It takes him eight minutes to choose a flavor, and Nyota rolls her eyes when he finally selects vanilla. She gets choco-raspberry swirl in a cone. Spock, of course, chooses the neatest conveyance: a bowl and a spoon, which does not mitigate Nyota’s eye-rolling in the slightest.

The lady at the register watches their interaction with a faint smile on her face, and asks Nyota as she pays, “Are you two together?”

The lady, whose name tag reads Meryl, could be asking about their purchases, or their relationship status. Nyota glances at Spock, who is watching her intently, and looks back at the lady as she slides her card across the counter. She makes her decision.

“We are.” 

Simple. Easy. Like she wants it to be.

“Oh, you two are so cute together. I think it’s so nice that you can love who you want to these days.” Meryl goes to pat Nyota’s hand, and Nyota quickly withdraws it before the lady can touch her. She really hates it when strange people feel the need to touch her for no reason.

“Thank you,” Nyota says faintly. Interspecies couples aren’t that common, she knows, but she doesn’t feel like this lady’s desire to reassure her is any better than the nasty looks. She is aware there is nothing wrong with her relationship with Spock. She is also aware the only high profile interspecies marriage in the entirety of the time interspecies relationships have been legal was between Spock’s parents.

Spock takes the tiniest bite, as if the ice cream is going to attack him, and he makes the weirdest face when he tastes it. Nyota almost drops her cone, she’s laughing so hard. He fixes her with his look that’s meant to make cadets shake in their boots, but she’s too busy laughing to notice. She wipes a tear from her eye and looks at him, still grinning.

“It’s ice cream, Spock, not a phaser. It just tastes sweet and it’s cold. That’s all there is to it.” Nyota takes a long lick around the top of her cone. “Cream and sugar won’t kill you if you indulge every once in awhile, you know. Everything in moderation.”

“I am aware of that saying, Nyota. Many humans quote it and few practice it. Ice cream is an odd sensation, however. I am not certain if I wish to repeat the experience.”

Despite the expression Spock makes and his protest, he eats about a third of his tiny cup. He waits for Nyota to finish her ice cream. The only noise between them is the crunch of her cone between her teeth and the soft tap of her right boot against the floor. Spock watches her eat perhaps too intensely, but she was the one who wished to consume a food that required such diligent use of her tongue.

It’s raining when they step outside and Nyota immediately steps back under the awning.

“How far is it back to your car?”

“Three blocks east and two blocks south. Do you want to hold onto my sweater again?”

“Yes please,” Nyota says. “Let’s hurry.”

She grips her hand tight in the fabric of his sleeve this time, closing around his wrist. Spock starts walking briskly forward, unblinking as the torrent of rain cascades down his face. His sweater appears to be waterproof, or at least water-repellant, because it doesn’t dampen around Nyota’s fingers.

She’s soaked by the time they reach his car. She only shivers for a few minutes, though, because Spock turns the heat on full blast.

“Thank you,” she says, noticing the way Spock’s hair looks plastered against his forehead.

“Have your received any responses to your applications for internships this summer?” He asks after a minute of silence.

“One of them sent me a rejection. I’m still waiting to hear back from two more, which is a little weird, considering that they both start in a week and a half. I’m convinced the Academy pulls this stuff just to keep us on our toes. I mean, I know I’m staying here for the summer. I would just like to know in advance whether I’m going to be employed or not.”

Spock keeps his eyes on the road, the set of his shoulders firm as he turns the wheel.

“What positions have not replied yet?”

“Um, the recruiting thing, and also this job in the library. I think most of them want older cadets though. That’s why I got turned down from the first place. It’s annoying to have my accomplishments looked over because of a single year of schooling. It’s not like I’m incapable of doing the jobs I’ve applied for, or I wouldn’t have sent in my application.”

“The bureaucracy of the Academy is full of many complexities that even I do not fully understand. When you are aware of your schedule, I would like to be apprised of it.”

Nyota looks at him suddenly, her earrings jingling slightly. “Of course. I was planning on it. I mean, I want to see you again.”

“I as well,” he says softly, and brings his car to a stop. Now he looks at her, with the engine still running and heat pouring over her body.

“I had a good time, you know, besides the crying,” Nyota says, smiling a little shyly. She picks two flecks of nail polish off her left ring finger and pinches them between her thumb and forefinger.

“Will you walk me to my dorm?” she asks, just as he says, “Do you want me to accompany you back to your dormitory?”

Nyota nods. The rain has let up and it’s barely drizzling as she climbs out of his car. They walk side by side down the path, and she lets her arm bump into his. After a minute of holding her breath and careful thinking, she slides her hand into Spock’s. He looks down at her, faint amusement in his eyes that does not translate to his mouth.

She sends him the comforting touch of his knee earlier in the evening, relishing in the coolness of his mind taking the thought from her. He sends her back the way she looked consuming her ice cream, the bliss written across her cheeks, and Nyota is glad it’s dark and raining and he can’t see her blush.

Spock pauses at the foot of the stairs, but she tugs him up and into the lobby. The lights flicker on. It’s just the two of them in the empty room.

“Do you want to come up?” Nyota asks, watching her left boot scuff the floor. She’s still holding his hand.

“Is your roommate here for the summer as well?”

“Gaila’s out tonight with some of her drinking buddies. She told me she’d probably crash with one of them. So no, she won’t be in our room tonight.”

He pauses, hesitation furrowing his brow. It’s Nyota’s sly grin that finally urges him to say, “Very well then,” and step into the turbolift after her.

Spock seems ill at ease once inside her room. He stands stiffly just inside the doorway, observing the neatness of her side and Gaila’s mess. Nyota points at the tape line.

“Gaila is a good friend, but she lacks organization when it comes to her belongings.”

“I had noticed.”

Nyota suddenly remembers the holoprint tacked to the back of the door and hopes Spock doesn’t turn around. Rule number five might make him uncomfortable. She’s uncomfortable just at the thought of him reading  _ Minimal nudity is allowed _ and having to look at Gaila’s unbelievably large collection of lingerie strewn across her bed and the floor. Nyota checks quickly to make sure her sock drawer is shut and breathes a sigh of relief.

“You can sit, if you want.” She pats the bed next to her.

Spock sits, his posture still constrained and formal. He turns toward her slightly and Nyota is suddenly aware of how close he is, despite the lack of contact between them. Spock takes a breath in and says her name in a tone of voice she isn’t entirely sure she’s heard from him before.

“Nyota.”

“Spock,” she says back and scoots a little closer to him.

His hand reaches for her chin so slowly she is tingling with anticipation by the time his fingers cup her jaw. Spock’s lips meet hers, slow and sweet, his ring finger hot against the pulse in her neck. It’s not at all like last night. There’s no desperation or expectation, just tenderness. Nyota is having a little trouble breathing when he slips his tongue inside her mouth. This kiss is slow, exploring. The taste of her mouth, still sweet from ice cream, flashes across her mind. The angle of her chin, the feeling of her earring hitting his hand, the rumpling of her blankets beneath their bodies: all these images blur through Nyota’s brain as he kisses her.

Spock pulls back after what could have been an hour, but probably was only two minutes, and rests his forehead against Nyota’s, his hand sliding to rest where her neck meets her shoulder.

“This evening was not unpleasant,” he says, a little short of breath.

Nyota bites her lip and smiles at him.

“You could just say you had a good time, like I did, you know. Repeat after me: I had a good time, Nyota.”

“The sentiment is the same-”

Gaila chooses that exact moment to walk through the door, already taking her crop top off. She smirks at Nyota and Spock, who are suddenly sitting a respectable distance apart on her bed.

“Brought him up to your room, Nyota? I wouldn’t have expected that of you. Do I need to clear out?”

She pauses with a hand on the clasp of her bra, and Nyota feels suddenly grateful that Spock’s eyes are carefully placed on her.

“The commander was just about to go,” Nyota says, clearing her throat slightly. She gets up with Spock and walks into the corridor after him.

“I wasn’t expecting her back so soon,” she whispers into the darkness of the corridor. If she waves her arms wildly, the lights will flicker on, but she likes the way Spock’s skin glows slightly in the dim light. “I mean- not that- I wanted to talk for a little longer.”

Spock’s fingertips find hers. “I know,” he says. There’s a rush of happiness that scurries through her hand, up her arm, and into her torso.

“Goodnight, Nyota.”

“Night, Spock.”

She stands on her tiptoes and plants a quick kiss on his cheek before hurrying into her room. Gaila is on her padd, bra discarded and a blanket across her lap.

“So, how did it go?” Gaila wants to know everything, but Nyota feels a little protective of Spock.

“We had ice cream. You walked in on us kissing. It was good.”

“That’s all? It was good?”

“Yes,” Nyota says, and the smile won’t come off her face until the next morning, when she’s met with another rejection letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a heaping of thanks onto my beta, LieutenantSaavik!
> 
> Nyota's thing about mushrooms...completely mine. They are super gross and I have never liked them. Anyways, I've had an absolutely fantastic week and I hope you have too!


	9. without question or regret

Nyota finally receives word on her last application Sunday morning. It wasn’t her first choice, not by a long shot, but she’s going to be recruiting this summer. Captain Pike welcomes her to his team, and apologizes for the delay in responding. Apparently her application managed to slip through the cracks, but he could use another cadet. They ship out on Monday at ten hundred hours, and will be touring the Americas. 

Nyota heaves in a deep breath and calls Spock as she pulls her suitcase from under her bed. He doesn’t reply. She decides that a missed call is enough and doesn’t leave a message. He calls her back an hour later.

“I apologize for the delay in response to your communication. I was conversing with my mother, as I do normally at this time. Are you well?”

It sounds like there’s genuine concern in his voice and Nyota regrets not leaving a message for a brief moment.

“Yeah, I’m good, Spock. I finally got notice about the other jobs. The only one that replied positively was the place on the recruitment team. I’m with Captain Pike, and we’re leaving tomorrow morning at nine hundred hours. Short notice, and he apologized for it, but there’s no changing it. I wanted to see you again before I go.”

Nyota’s pulling her uniforms off the hangers in her closet, and she is suddenly grateful that she chose to do laundry last night to take her mind off not talking to Sanaa.

“I am acquainted with Captain Pike. He is the captain of the  _ Enterprise _ .”

Nyota pauses folding her underwear. The fleet’s new flagship has been in construction in a shipyard in Iowa for a year or so now. Everyone knows about the  _ Enterprise _ , and everyone wants to serve on it when they graduate. It’s going to be the biggest and best ship Starfleet has ever built, and if she’s going to be spending the summer under the scrutiny of its captain, she’s going to spend every minute weaseling into his good graces. If she works hard and is friends with him, she doesn’t see how she can’t get a posting on the  _ Enterprise _ . Maybe this summer isn’t going to be a complete waste of time.

“I didn’t know that,” she says, not trying to hide the excitement in her voice. “This summer might be better than I thought. How do you know him?”

“I interviewed last summer to be first officer on the Enterprise. I received my commission and promotion to commander with it a month before I proctored entrance exams for the Academy. Captain Pike has since invited me to a number of social gatherings, of which I have attended only a few. I would not classify our relationship as intimate in any way. We are acquainted, and that is all.”

“You’re first officer? Spock, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“The subject had not arisen in conversation.”

“You should be proud of that, though. The  _ Enterprise _ is huge, I mean I don’t think there’s been so much talk about a ship since, I don’t know, the  _ Phoenix _ ? That’s an exaggeration, I know, but still. You should have said something.”

Nyota stares at her suitcase, blanking for a minute on what she’s forgetting. Spock’s saying something, but she’s tuned out, running over the list in her head.  _ Socks, underwear, uniforms, off-duty clothes, toiletries, toiletries.  _ Toothbrush, that’s what she’s missing.

“Nyota? Are you still there?” Spock’s voice brings her back to reality. She totally missed the last minute of whatever he’s been saying.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was thinking about my packing list. I didn’t hear what you said.” Nyota rubs her eyes and walks into the bathroom. Her makeup; that’s what else she’s forgetting. She pulls her cosmetics out of her drawer in the vanity while she actually listens to Spock.

“I do not find it necessary to mention my accomplishments unheeded. I am not given to displays of boasting. It is impolite.” He pauses. “You will be gone the entirety of the summer?”

“Yeah, we get back in time to ship cadets off to the last run of aptitude tests. Are you going to be proctoring exams again this year?”

“No, I am not.”

Nyota breathes an audible sigh of relief. “That means we can see each other that week,” she says, hope rising from her toes. “I mean, if you still want to see each other after two and a half months of not seeing each other.”

“Nyota,” Spock pauses again, and his voice isn’t modulated at all, and she can’t see the small tells in his face, and her heart is sinking like a stone. She places her blush carefully in her small cosmetics bag, feeling her face go numb.

“I would prefer to continue this conversation in person and not over our communicators,” he continues. “There is a small cafe just off campus, if you are able to meet me there.”

“Oh,” Nyota says. He’s going to break up with her in public so she can’t cry a lot. It’s probably how emotional she is; that’s probably it. She knows her brain jumps to bad scenarios quickly, but Spock is real and her family isn’t talking to her because of him and he’s  _ real and he likes her back _ , or at least, did like her back. Maybe their date a couple of nights ago was a train wreck. Maybe Spock wants their relationship to be more physical. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called or sent any messages or anything since then.

Nyota couldn’t cry if she wanted to. She’s on lockdown.

“I’ll be done packing in a couple minutes.” She pulls her comm away from her ear to check the time. “I think Gaila and I went there once. The one at the front of campus?”

“It is located near the front, yes.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes.” Her voice is cold, but she can’t be bothered to care.

“ _ Diftor heh smusma _ ,” Spock says. If Nyota was paying attention, she would notice the smile in his voice. But she isn’t. She’s too busy deciding what alcohol to buy tonight so she can get royally drunk.

“Goodbye,” she replies, and practically slams her comm closed. Nyota feels stupid and worn out and she just wants to go back to Friday night, watching him eat ice cream, or maybe back to that afternoon weeks ago when she discovered that he liked her. Before Sanaa shut her out, before she had  _ feelings _ for Spock. Just before this whole thing, when she wanted to go to Starfleet and kick ass. That was better. Feelings are complicated and weird, and maybe there’s a good reason Nyota hasn’t dated until now.

She walks to the cafe, imagining that the worst is about to transpire. Spock is waiting for her, two cups of tea on the table in front of him. He stands when she approaches.

“I took the liberty of acquiring tea for you. I remember you brought mint tea one time to drink while you worked, so I assumed that would be satisfactory.”

Nyota can’t do this, not when he remembers her drinking mint tea one time four months ago. It’s too nice,  _ he’s too nice _ , and he’s looking at her waiting for her to sit down, to say thank you. She feels frozen, unable to think.

“That’s fine,” she forces out, after too long a pause. She sits, stiffly, and waits for the worst. “What did you want to say to me?”

Spock looks out the window, his hands wrapped around his cup. His right index finger is moving slightly against the rim, and Nyota starts with realization. He’s  _ nervous _ .  _ Spock _ is  _ nervous _ .

He opens his mouth slightly and closes it again. “I am unsure how to phrase what I want to say, and I must admit it is an unfamiliar feeling,” he says after a minute of Nyota wishing her tea was cool enough to drink so she wouldn’t have to say anything.

Her eyes dart to his face, and he meets them. “I am aware that we have not seen each other outside of work for long at all, however I feel your employment this summer leads to a necessary clarification as to the nature of our relationship.”

Nyota’s heart is pounding in her ears.  _ Here it comes _ , she thinks.

“Nyota, will you be my girlfriend?”

“What?” she splutters.

Spock is apologizing before she can draw in another breath. “I believe that it is a customary step to ask the other person to be one’s partner in human relationships. I am aware we have not been free to spend a significant amount of time together outside of work due to our positions. However, I have reciprocated your affections for long enough and you will be gone for an extended period of time, so I thought it fitting. Have I offended you?”

“No,” Nyota says. “I’m just- I thought- Yes, yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Spock is smiling, the corner of his mouth definitively upturned ever so slightly and his eyes full of warmth.

“Good,” he says, and then, “What did you think I was going to ask you?”

“I thought you were going to break up with me. I just- it’s stupid.” Nyota gulps down some tea so she doesn’t have to meet his eyes.

Spock’s brow is furrowed when she finally looks at him.

“I am confused as to how you would arrive at that conclusion, Nyota. That is a highly illogical thought process given how clear I have made my affection for you known.”

Nyota picks at her nail polish. It’s a fresh coat; she just painted it yesterday, but she feels so idiotic that she jumped to such a terrible conclusion so quickly that she really doesn’t want to look at Spock’s face.

“You didn’t call me or message me or anything the last couple of days. I mean- I called you because you wanted to know about my job this summer, and then we had a nice conversation that made me think that it was okay, and I was fine. And then- I assumed that you wouldn’t want to keep seeing each other if I was gone all summer. You not wanting to say it over the phone didn’t help.”

“I apologize that my actions were misconstrued. I am unsure of protocol surrounding contact after a date and therefore decided to let you contact me first. I did not intend to create any anxiety on your part.”

“It’s okay,” Nyota whispers.

Spock is studying her face intently. “I cannot guarantee that I will be available every single night, but I am willing to clear my evenings if you wish to talk while you are away.”

“That’s too much, Spock, you don’t have to. You’re so nice. Why do you have to be so nice?”

Nyota is crying again, and  _ shit _ she hates crying, but she’s so happy and Spock is being too kind. He looks confused, and she waves her hand.

“I’m happy,” she says. “God, I really, really like you.”

“I return the sentiment,” Spock says, and reaches across the table with his hand. She places her hand on top of his lightly, sighing as the warmth of his skin meets hers.

Nyota smiles brilliantly at him. They just look at each other for a minute, their surroundings fading away.

“Are you meeting anyone for lunch?” Spock asks finally, breaking her gaze to take a sip of tea.

“No, but Gaila and I are going out to dinner, where I’m sure she plans on getting me drunk. I may hide my comm so I don’t do anything stupid,” she says and squeezes his hand, not caring if any patrons are watching the obvious display of affection.

“You do not have inclinations towards stupidity.”

“Why thank you, Spock, but the last time I got drunk I had a conversation with Sanaa that I didn’t think I was going to.”

Nyota blushes thinking about that night, and is halfway through replaying her and Sanaa’s conversation before she remembers two things. First, that Sanaa isn’t talking to her right now, and second, she’s still holding Spock’s hand and he can see everything she’s thinking.

“Oh no,” she says, and quickly withdraws her hand. It’s really not appropriate thought material for touch telepathy with her new boyfriend in the middle of a cafe. Spock’s cheeks are pale green and Nyota wants to slide down her chair onto the floor in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I need to maybe work on not thinking about certain things when I’m holding your hand. Can I apologize again? I’m sorry, Spock. I managed to make the both of us very uncomfortable very quickly. It was unintentional and I really didn’t want to think about that- It was just the last time I got drunk.”

“I followed your train of thought,” Spock says firmly. “ _ Rai thrap tor taken wilat rim tor putan-tor _ .”

“Thank you,” Nyota replies softly, still not looking at him.

“I inquired after your lunch plans with purpose, Nyota. Since you are not otherwise engaged, would you care to join me?”

“I’d like that. Where do you want to go?”

“I planned on cooking lunch myself.”

“Oh,” she says, and realizes that means going to his apartment. “That sounds nice. It’s been awhile since I had a homemade meal.”

Nyota doesn’t hold his hand when they walk to his apartment together, not trusting herself after the incident in the cafe. Spock walks just close enough to her that she knows it’s on purpose, but just far enough away that their arms do not brush. Several officers pass them by and a couple of cadets, but Spock doesn’t move farther away when they approach. It makes something in Nyota’s heart fizz despite their obvious lack of contact.

His apartment is neat and orderly, like she expected it to be. It’s warm, probably kept to the same temperature as Vulcan, so she hangs her jacket on the hook just inside the door. She toes off her boots and places them next to his in the entryway, looking around. 

There’s a blanket carefully folded on the back of his couch and a wall hanging of Vulcan poetry on the wall. A holoprint of a Vulcan landscape hangs above his sink and there’s a photograph of his parents on the small table by his couch. The sparse decorations don’t make it feel homey in any way, but Spock’s apartment feels like it’s his. She dumps her bag next to her boots and follows him into the kitchen.

“Do you want help, or am I just going to watch you cook?”

Spock pulls a pot from a cabinet as he replies, his back to her. “You are my guest. It is the custom on Vulcan for guests to prepare food for their hosts, but we are on Earth, so there is no obligation for you to assist me. You have also mentioned that you have no prior experience with Vulcan cuisine, so I do not believe you preparing plomeek soup to be a wise decision.”

“Okay,” Nyota says.

She stands in her sock feet and watches him cut the purple plomeeks into perfect cubes, along with several other brightly colored vegetables she can’t identify. She really hopes she likes plomeek soup, because if she doesn’t, she’s going to feel really awful. Is she even allowed to tell her newly minted boyfriend she doesn’t like his cooking? She doesn’t think so.

Spock asks her about her plans for the next semester while he cooks, and listens intently while she replies. Nyota feels at peace like this, like it’s how things are meant to be. It’s just right, and it scares her a little how like home it feels, to talk to him and smell the spices of his home planet.

Home has meant many different things to her over the years and been several people. Nyota feels suddenly homesick for her nephew; wants to cradle him in her arms and sing to him. She misses Earl dearly, misses Sanaa and Rebecca, hell she even misses their grumpy old cat. This, though, with Spock- it fills a little bit of the ache in. It’s good to feel this way again, even if it’s only going to last for a couple of hours before she doesn’t see Spock for an entire summer.

“I’ll call you almost every night I can,” Nyota says suddenly as Spock takes two bowls from the cupboard above the stove.

“I will clear my schedule accordingly,” Spock replies, moving around her to place two spoons on the table. He sets the table with an efficiency and ease that leaves Nyota a little embarrassed watching him. His mundane movements shouldn’t fascinate her so much, but they do, and she is still watching the quick movement of his hands as he fills two glasses with water.

Spock waits for her to taste her soup. She doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing until she looks up from her empty spoon and says, “It’s good,” and his shoulders ease just a little. Nyota is glad she likes the sharp flavor that is new to her palate, but delicious nonetheless. They don’t talk while they eat, but Spock’s knee bumps hers, and she holds it there with her own.

Their touch is a language of its own, and for the first time Nyota finds herself anticipating Spock’s initiation of contact. It’s subtle and sweet. She never would have thought of Spock as sweet, but it’s there, and it makes her feel special to know his concern like so few do. Their relationship isn’t maybe what Nyota was expecting, but it’s exactly what she wants.

Spock asks her if she’s read a recent paper on the prevalence of Klingon dialects in the Federation and the impact of their cultural implications on the usage of Standard in planets closer to the neutral zone when her spoon scrapes the bottom of her bowl. She has, of course. It’s been a bit since they had an intellectual discussion, but this is part of what attracted them to each other, and Nyota is glad for the conversation.

She relaxes a little into her chair as their conversation progresses, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when her comm goes off, bumping her knees on the bottom of Spock’s table and rattling their bowls.

“Sorry,” she says, and scurries over to her bag to grab it. It’s Gaila, wanting to know where she is.

“I’m at Spock’s place,” Nyota says without thinking. “He made lunch.”

“Nyota, it’s 1700 hours. It’s nearly dinner time. I know you’re not going to tell me what you’ve been doing all that time since lunch, but you had better get your ass back to our dorm. I want to have dinner with you, drink a little, have a girl’s night. Come on, Nyota.”

Nyota looks over at Spock, who is clearing their bowls from the table and rinsing them out in the sink.

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten. And we were just talking.”

“Mmhmm,” Gaila says, and Nyota rues the day Gaila learned sarcasm. She flips her comm closed and turns to Spock.

“I have to go,” she says, her disappointment clear.

Spock sets their spoons back in his drawer precisely.

“I had assumed as much.”

“This was really nice, Spock. Thank you.”

Nyota’s pulling on her boots, and Spock is suddenly looming over her. She stands up, rarely so close to him in this manner. He looks down at her, and she puts her hands on his chest.

“You are welcome, Nyota,” he says. After the briefest hesitation, he kisses her for maybe a little too long, but she isn’t going to see him for a couple months, so she kisses him back for definitely longer than she should.

“Gaila is waiting,” she finally gets out, past the heady feeling of observing herself through his senses. Kissing is just so good with him, and she really needs to not be thinking about how good the rest of it might be at this moment.

“Yes,” he says.

Nyota reaches out and traces the point of his ear.

“I’m going to miss you,” she says, not stepping back.

“We shall, as you say, keep in touch.”

“I know,” she sighs, and finally pulls away from the heat of his body.

Nyota is still thinking about the press of him against her when Gaila opens their door.

“You’ve been standing out there for two minutes mooning over Spock,” Gaila says. “Let’s go.”

Nyota knows the floor creaks right outside their door and she can’t claim innocence. She has, in fact, been standing in the hallway for two solid minutes with her hand on her lips replaying the entire afternoon in her head.

“He asked me to be his girlfriend,” Nyota says, and peers around the hallway to make sure there’s no one obviously listening. “And I said yes.”

“Nyota, you’ve barely gone on two dates with him.”

“Gaila, I’m leaving for the entire summer. I got that recruiting job, and it’s the only one of my applications that returned with a positive answer. I would like to eat this summer, and right now family isn’t really an option. Besides, Captain Pike of the  _ Enterprise _ is heading the team. So I took the job, and of course I told Spock, you know, I felt like he ought to know. And he said he wanted to ask me something in person, and well, I’m his girlfriend now. Exclusively.”

Nyota leaves out her panic. She feels it’s unecessary, and Gaila can probably smell it on her anyways, so. Unimportant.

“Well, good for you,” Gaila says, studying her.

Nyota only lets Gaila get her tipsy, absolutely refusing anything with vibrant colors. Gaila manages to drag out of her what kept her so long at Spock’s after lunch and tells Nyota she’s boring.

⋘⋙

Nyota wakes up with only a slight headache. Gaila is still snoring as she tiptoes around their room and gathers her last few things. Nyota quickly shoves her blanket on top of her clothes and closes her suitcase. It’s going to be weird seeing so many new places and people. She really hopes her fellow cadets on the recruiting team aren’t total assholes.

One of them introduces himself in the parking lot, and Nyota tries desperately to remain civil.

“I’m Richard Tracy,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Uhura,” she replies tightly, and doesn’t take it.

“Pike’s really gonna make us wait out here, huh?” Tracy moves as if to jostle her shoulder, but Nyota has already stepped away from him.

“It’s only 0847,” she replies, and decides she’s going to call Eshe while other cadets and officers join the huddle of uniforms on the pavement.

Eshe doesn’t answer, so Nyota leaves her a message.

“Hey Eshe, you said to call you if I needed anything. Well, I don’t need anything, but I wanted to let you know that um,” Nyota notices Tracy watching her and lowers her voice, “Spock and I are official now. Like boyfriend-girlfriend. I got that recruiting job, so I won’t be seeing him really at all for the summer, but I’m happy. It’s good. Um, if you see Sanaa, tell her I miss her and Rebecca and Earl. Message me or something, okay? Tell Gabriel and Mom and Dad I said hi. Love you.”

Nyota flicks her comm shut and rejoins the group. Tracy asks her, “Calling your parents?”

“No,” Nyota replies firmly. She doesn’t feel the need to elaborate further.

Tracy looks as if he’s about to ask her something else, but they start walking towards the shuttlepad then, and if he does, it’s swallowed up by thirty bodies and their luggage.

 ⋘⋙

Nyota is thankfully not paired up with Cadet Tracy for the first three cities they visit. She instead has some decent company from several ensigns, who inquire after her field of study and her plans when she graduates, but not her personal life. She clutches her blanket to her cheek at night when she has trouble sleeping in unknown beds while several bodies around her breathe too loudly. Nyota is too tired to call Spock the first couple of nights, and hardly has a minute to herself in her free time when she isn’t working.

She manages to sneak off on her fifth night away in Vancouver. Everyone is inside a bar getting drunk, but Nyota doesn’t feel like getting drunk without Gaila, if at all, so she takes advantage of her companions occupied state and stands in the cool air of the parking lot.

Spock picks up almost immediately.

“Nyota,” he says, and then, after a second’s hesitation. “I was unsure if I should clear my evening again if you were not going to call.”

Nyota feels terrible for not sending him a message. “I’m sorry, Spock. I’ve just been busy, and when I have free time, I can’t get a moment to myself. I mean, it’s not like my roommates don’t call their partners, but I like my privacy. How are you?”

“Acceptable."

She kicks a rock and watches it skitter across the lines of parking spaces.

“I’m okay. I mean, the pay is decent. I can’t complain about that. I’m having a hard time being around so many people, though. Sometimes the bathroom is my only escape. It’s hard to read dissertations on off-world languages when ten women are yelling about their personal lives in the same room as you.”

“All of them raise their voices at precisely the same time?”

“No, Spock, it’s an exaggeration. I’m just saying, I might need to do some catching up on reading before we can have a discussion about hot topics in the world of xenolinguistics.”

“Unfortunate,” he says, and Nyota laughs.

“I wanted to ask you how many languages you know.” She’s has been curious for sometime now, but unsure how to bring it up in conversation. She figures now that they’re dating, she can just ask weird questions.

“I am fluent in seventeen languages. What prompted your inquiry?”

“I was curious.” Nyota can’t hide the triumph from her voice when she says, “I know more languages than you.”

“So you did in fact have an ulterior motive. Competition is illogical without society’s gain.”

“I don’t care. I’m better than you at something.” Nyota smiles.

Two cadets walk out and one of them starts heaving into a bush. Even though they are a couple yards away and likely cannot hear her, she switches to Vulcan.

“I am no longer alone.”

“Do you require me to reply in Vulcan as well?” Spock replies in the even tones of his native language.

“If you want to.”

It’s another half an hour before cadets start filing out of the bar in twos and threes. Nyota bids Spock goodbye and promises to call him tomorrow night if she can. She’ll message him if she can’t, but she really hopes she’s able to. Talking to Spock makes her feel a little better about her sleep tonight.

Cadet Retters, who is tall, dark-haired, and a little intimidating, smirks at Nyota when she joins the group.

“Who were you speaking Vulcan to? You got someone off planet?”

Nyota shakes her head. “None of your business and no. How did you know it was Vulcan?”

“My mom works at the Vulcan embassy. I don’t know how to speak it, but I’ve heard it often enough to recognize it when I hear it. I can understand a little bit too. I know _lakh_ is language, and _dva-tor_ is to believe, but that’s all I caught."

Retters studies Nyota a little too intensely. “Everyone talks about their partner. I’ve got a partner. You don’t have to be so defensive. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m just private,” Nyota says, allowing her voice to relax a little from the strictness of Vulcan. “I like what I have.”

“You in xenolinguistics, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Your significant other in xenoling too?”

Nyota thinks for a second before deciding it’s not a lie to say yes.

“Cool,” Retters says. It turns out she’s command track, a 2nd year. Nyota isn’t surprised in the least. She talks about her partner, who’s in the pilot program at Starfleet and a third year. Nyota listens, not just out of obligation, but because she kind of likes Retters for not poking her nose in Nyota’s business.

⋘⋙

They’re in Juneau the next day, and Nyota groans when Captain Pike informs her she’s assigned with Cadet Tracy. She has no formal complaint, so she can’t request someone else be paired with her, but Tracy really grinds her gears. He’s only managed to talk to her once since Monday, but he asked for her comm number in the space of those thirteen seconds. Nyota had pretended not to hear him and made a run for the bathroom. Today is going to be a long one.

She makes it until 1300 hours when they break for lunch before she snaps at Tracy. She’s been harboring thoughts of broken limbs and shaving half his beard off all morning, but it’s him winking at her when he says, “Lunch with a pretty cadet. Well, isn’t it my lucky day,” that finally does it. Nyota really wishes she’s had hand-to-hand combat already so she can deck Tracy a good one, but she hasn’t, so she settles for what talent she does have.

“Tracy,  _ ikap’uh t’du ru’lut _ . Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I’m working here and so are you. I’m not interested in the slightest. Just because you’re lonely doesn’t mean I’m obligated to respond positively to your winking. Let me eat my damn lunch in peace.” Nyota finishes her speech with a Tellarite curse that means  _ may you lose all your arguments _ and throws in her favorite Trill swears for good measure. 

Tracy’s mouth opens and closes several times before he finally says, “Sorry.” He still asks her for her comm number three times by the end of the day.

⋘⋙

Nyota pulls Captain Pike aside that night at dinner.

“Sir, I would prefer to not work with Cadet Tracy in the future.”

“Uhura, right? Look, Uhura, I need a reason before I separate the two of you. If that reason is personal, if this is some lover’s spat, I’m not going to do it.” The captain stares at her a little too intensely and Nyota’s eyes slide to his cheekbones.

“It’s not, sir. He’s made me uncomfortable and continues to flirt with me despite me telling him repeatedly that I’m uninterested. I literally cursed him out at lunch and he took that as an invitation to ask for my comm number three more times. Sir, I don’t mean to be crass, but I really don’t want to put up with his shit.”

“I will make a note that he is not to be paired with you, and I’ll sit down with him myself. Psych evals are only good for so much, I know that. Tracy needs a talking to, and I’ll be happy to provide it. Has he tried to touch you without your permission?”

“Not really,” Nyota says, grateful that the captain is understanding. “Thank you, sir.”

The captain is pulling out his padd and turning back to the table when Nyota works up the courage to say, “Sir, there was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it, Uhura?” Pike looks up at her.

“I’m hoping to be posted to the  _ Enterprise _ when I graduate, and I was wondering if you have any recommendations to prepare myself, sir.”

The captain smiles. “You and everyone else, Cadet. Your courses will be adequate to prepare you for your commission. Your assignment will most likely be determined by my first officer, however. So if you want to suck up to someone, suck up to Commander Spock. Good luck, though. He’s a Vulcan and a bit of a hardass.”

Nyota bites back her own smile. “Oh, okay. Thank you, sir.” She desperately wants to laugh, but manages to compose herself by the time she sits down to eat. She needs to call Spock tonight and tell him about this.

Retters smiles at Nyota when she slips out of dinner a little early.

“ _ Wa’na’shau, Spock. _ I greet you eagerly,” Nyota says into her comm.

“ _ Paitaren zherka’es. Na’shau, Nyota. _ Your fervor is appreciated. I greet you.” There’s a note of amusement in Spock’s voice when he gives the reply to her specific greeting.

“I’m going to have this entire conversation in Vulcan, if that’s acceptable.”

“It is.”

“Good,” Nyota says, and giggles slightly. “Captain Pike told me if I wanted to curry favor for a commission for the  _ Enterprise _ when I graduate, you’re the one I should be talking to. I had a very hard time keeping a straight face, but I think I managed. So Spock, what do you recommend I do to get the commission I want?”

“Nyota, flattery serves no purpose. I am committed to Starfleet regulations concerning the matter, which leave no room for any sort of favoritism. I will be making judgements based on merit alone. If you perform admirably, as you undoubtedly will, I cannot foresee your assignment being anywhere except the  _ Enterprise _ .”

Nyota glows when Spock compliments her. “Thank you, Spock. I’m going to graduate as a lieutenant, you know. I’ve done a little research of my own.”

She wants to mention Tracy, but doesn’t really think it’s a great idea. Pike is already dealing with it, and it’s not like Spock can do anything, so Nyota decides to tell him about Retters instead.

Spock says something about the importance of companionship among humans, typically among those of the same gender, and Nyota wishes she was with him so she could smooth the furrow between his brows that she knows is there right now.

“I wish I was having a stimulating discussion with you in your office right now,” she says instead.

“There is a certain disparity between our current method of conversation and our past discussions.” Spock pauses a moment before abruptly changing the subject. “I have been wanting to inform you that I will no longer be teaching xenolinguistics this fall.”

“Are you being commissioned?” Nyota asks, her pulse rising as she thinks of Spock even farther away than he is now.

“No, I am simply returning to my original course of study. I’m transferring to the computer science department.”

“Oh,” she says. “Good.” 

It’s the thing that Spock leaves unsaid that makes her smile and say thank you, that assurance that there will be no conflict of interest between them again. Xenolinguistics majors don’t take classes in the computer science department.

“It was the logical thing to do,” Spock says, and Nyota knows he’s smiling by the slight rise in intonation at the beginning of his sentence.

⋘⋙

Retters falls in next to her when they walk back to their hotel that night and Nyota doesn’t mind at all.

“Have a good talk?”

“Yeah. I had to tell my boyfriend something funny that happened today. You know how it is.”

“I do.”

They walk in silence before Retters offers, “My name’s Ana.”

“Nyota.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ana says, and laughs.

“Likewise,” Nyota replies. It feels nice to have someone to talk to, even if she never sees Retters again after this summer.

⋘⋙

She sends Gaila messages with recaps of her days, accumulating several days worth of anecdotes, like the guy who was so interested in joining Starfleet but didn’t understand the importance of having an undergraduate degree before applying. Pike ended up taking him aside, and Nyota didn’t see him again after that. 

She calls Spock as often as she can, conducting their conversations in languages other than Standard to preserve her privacy. Of all the languages they speak together, they do not converse in Orion, even though Spock confesses his proficiency. It is an unspoken agreement between them that the divide of physical space does not lend itself to the level of intimacy Orion people arrive at just in greeting.

Tracy doesn’t approach her again, but Nyota can feel his eyes on her whenever they’re in the same room. The situation reminds her of Edward West, seven years ago and half a planet away. Nyota shudders every time Tracy looks at her for too long, and sticks close to Ana at dinners.

Nyota likes seeing new cities. She thinks it’s maybe the best part of this job, seeing new places. She’s still not sleeping well after all these weeks in strange places, but she’s had less sleep before. She misses Sanaa still, but when she talks to Spock and gets messages from Gaila that just read “If you aren’t having comm sex with Spock, you’re missing out,” Nyota feels like she’s going to be okay. She doesn’t think Sanaa is going to be like this for forever, hopes against hope that she’ll see her family for Christmas. Maybe she can even bring Spock. 

It’s a stupid thought that she banishes immediately. Unless her family contacts her sometime in the upcoming months, Nyota is likely going to be staying at the Academy over Christmas. The thought depresses her, so she walks over to Ana’s bed and asks to see photos of her and her partner. Ana obliges happily, and Nyota is distracted for the moment.

⋘⋙

They’re making their way through Mexico at the beginning of August when Captain Pike informs the recruiting group that they’ll be adding one more stop to their itinerary.

“I have to check up on some stuff with the  _ Enterprise _ , so we’ll be finishing off in Iowa instead of Chicago. You can have the extra day off, so get drunk all you like. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m telling you now so you have advance notice. Any plans you have for your week off before classes start can be rearranged. That’s all.”

Nyota sighs. She misses Gaila, and she really misses Spock. It’s just one more day, but she feels like she’s been on that damn shuttle and saying the same recruitment phrases for a year now. It’s only been two months, but she’s tired of the routine and tired of being around people so much. It’s wearing to have the only hours of the day she has to herself be devoted to sleep and relieving herself.

 ⋘⋙

Spock actually admits to missing her presence the afternoon before they fly to Iowa. Nyota is kicking pebbles around and conversing with him in her slightly rusty Cardassian that she really ought to have practiced more this summer.

“I find myself waiting for you to enter my office some afternoons, even though I know it is illogical to do so.”

“Aww,” Nyota says, “You miss me. I miss you too, a lot. One more day in Iowa, doing absolutely nothing, and then I’ll be back. You won’t have to miss me anymore, and I won’t have to think about kissing you anymore. I miss you too,” she adds, trying not to sound shallow.

“Your continued repetition of that statement serves no purpose, Nyota.”

“You know what I mean, Spock. Don’t be rude.”

“There was no such intention behind my statement of fact.”

“I don’t want to fight with you. Please, just let me say I miss you. It serves a purpose for me.”

“Very well. Nyota,” he says, his voice softening.

“Yes?”

“Captain Pike has requested my presence at the Riverside Shipyard tomorrow. He specified only that he wished his first officer to accompany him on a maintenance check. I have cleared my schedule accordingly. I presume that I will be occupied for the majority of the day with the captain, but I will likely have my evening unencumbered by obligation.”

Nyota breathes in shakily. “Good,” is all she manages. Her heart is flipping in her chest. She is not going to be able to sleep tonight, not with the knowledge she’s going to see Spock for the first time in months tomorrow night. Nyota finally asks after a moment of stimming, “Does Captain Pike need to be informed of our relationship?”

“If it is necessary for me to see you, I will inform him. Do you wish to tell him?”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, my family knows, and other people will eventually, but I like having you all to myself right now.”

“Understood."

“See you tomorrow,” Nyota says softly. She wants to feel the race of his happiness through her arm, but she’s left with just a memory for now.

“That was already established,” Spock replies, and she rolls her eyes.

“Goodnight, Spock."

“Good evening, Nyota.”

Nyota flips her comm closed and squats in the parking lot of their hotel, pressing her palms to the still-warm pavement. She doesn’t really care if anyone’s watching right now, but she needs to let some of the happiness out right now, or she’s going to explode. She stops when her elbows start to ache from the pressure, and she’s smiling like an idiot when she returns to her hotel room, but she can’t care.

Ana looks Nyota over when she flops on her bed.

“That good of a phone call?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Nyota replies.

She’s still smiling at 0007, thinking about seeing Spock for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a whole rant about the lazy world building in 2009 that I'm not going to subject you all to, but basically I _despise_ lazy world building and this is me putting a bandaid on it.
> 
> [This article](http://korsaya.org/2010/12/basic-phrases/) has been invaluable in my Vulcan efforts: Whoever ran that blog for that short period of time, thank you a thousand times over. 
> 
> _ikap’uh t’du ru’lut_ \- shut up in Vulcan. I didn’t translate this one because I kind of did right after? Idk it was kind of fun just to leave it there.
> 
> Also: Pressure stims!! my favorite one is to sit in a corner with cabinets (i can’t explain why it’s better than walls) and just press my back and side against them, but I have actually done the thing where I just pressed hard against something with my palms until my elbows protested.
> 
> My beta, LiuetenantSaavik, provides the best advice and grammar support I could ask for!!


	10. atoms joined and inseparable

Nyota is jittery the entire shuttle ride to Iowa. She could barely eat breakfast, she was so excited. Spock didn’t say when he would be arriving, but she still searches the shuttleport carefully when they land, just in case she can catch a glimpse of him. She can’t find him, though, and is a little disappointed.

Ana asks Nyota if she wants to go shopping with her after they dump their stuff in yet another nondescript hotel room. Nyota agrees, solely because she’s going to go insane waiting for Spock to comm or message her. 

She buys a shirt for Gaila that’s emblazoned with  _ Riverside Shipyard _ on the front and the Starfleet insignia on the back, and pokes at the array of styluses in one store aimlessly while Ana gets some part of her padd fixed. Nyota could use a new stylus, what with her awful habit of chewing on the ends of them, so she picks out a red one.

The day seems to drag on and on, and Nyota’s inbox remains empty and her comm silent. Ana notices her fidgeting, and asks her, “Waiting for something?”

“Yeah.” It’s a second or two before Nyota decides Ana can be trusted. “I’m seeing my boyfriend tonight. He was able to come out, but he has some obligation, so I can’t see him until tonight probably. I literally haven’t seen him in two and a half months, you know? We’ve talked, but it’s a long time.”

Ana nods. “You’re lucky you get to see him. Do I get to meet your mystery boyfriend, or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Nyota says, then quickly adds, “It’s not that I don’t like you or anything, it’s just that he’s private, and I am too, and no one really knows yet.”

“Okay,” Ana says, and leaves it. Nyota is grateful that Ana is so easygoing about everything and doesn’t push her for more information.

Nyota stays in her hotel room while the rest of the cadets go to the shipyard bar that night, wanting to be alone when Spock calls. She touches her earrings and reapplies her lipstick while she waits, the darkness growing outside. Ana messages her, asking her to come sometime around 1900, and Nyota sighs, deciding maybe some alcohol will help.

_ I’ll buy all the ladies drinks _ , she sends back.  _ I’m feeling generous tonight. Message me what you want _ .

Nyota’s beginning to think that Captain Pike knows Spock is waiting to see her and is purposefully keeping him, or Spock legitimately cannot leave. She greets Ana and the other cadets she tolerates as she enters the room filled with pulsating music and too bright lights. Nyota head straight to the bar and orders the drinks for her and her fellow cadets.

She rolls her eyes when the pretty boy with baby blue eyes offers to buy her drinks.

“Her shot’s on her. Thanks but no thanks.” Nyota just really wants to see Spock, and she thinks maybe some alcohol will soothe her anxiety. She does not want to be harassed by yet another guy looking for someone to take home.

He goes through the usual spiel, asking after her name, what she’s studying.  _ Jim Kirk, you really need to fuck off _ , she thinks when he says “You’ve got a talented tongue.”

Nyota decides to get him going with her comment about bestiality, but he just smirks and says, “Well, not only,” and she can’t help the laugh that climbs out of her mouth.

Tracy decides to pick that exact moment to step in, and now Nyota really wants to start swearing. She just wants to see her damn boyfriend and now Tracy has decided to come to her defense. Tracy instigates a fight, of course, and Kirk wasn’t really asking for it. Nyota feels slimy about the whole thing and attempts to break it up without actually getting involved, because Tracy is being such a  _ douchebag _ . 

Tracy and his buddies are idiots and she does not need defending,  _ for fuck’s sake _ . But Nyota hasn’t taken her mandatory hand to hand fighting class yet, and doesn’t feel like she stands a chance against the anger of the cadets. Ana and the other cadets are clustered around the scene, and Nyota feels even more gross, like she’s on display.

She’s eternally grateful for Captain Pike’s whistle and his order to leave the bar. The cadets file out, chattering about the whole thing. Nyota bumps into Ana as they mill around in the parking lot.

“I’m sorry all your drinks are still back there in the bar.”

“It’s okay,” Ana says. “Still no boyfriend?”

Nyota is about to say no when she sees Spock off to the side, almost completely hidden in the shadow of a lone tree. The moonlight reflects off his cheekbones underneath his hat, and Nyota has to force herself to keep from running towards him.

“Um, actually, I see him,” she says, and wipes her suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt. “I’ll see you back at the hotel, okay?”

“Okay,” Ana says with faint amusement as she tries to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure yards away. “Maybe in the morning though, huh, Nyota?”

But Nyota is already walking across the expanse between her and Spock as quickly as she can without running, her bag thumping against her hip. She stops just outside the edge of the shadow, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

“Hey,” she says, and it’s a completely inadequate way to greet him when she really wants to say is  _ I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about you _ or maybe even  _ I want to kiss you so badly it hurts _ . But she says hey instead because she has some alcohol in her and it’s been too many days since they last saw each other, and some thread of awkwardness has crept into her voice.

“Hello, Nyota,” he replies, and steps forward to close the space between them.

She’s forgotten how hot Spock’s body temperature is. The moment his hand meets hers, their fingers intertwining, she sighs.

“You feel good,” Nyota says, even though it’s August in Iowa and it’s still 83 degrees Fahrenheit outside. The fizzy feeling she loves so much reaches her spine, and she sighs again.

“Skin to skin contact is a pleasant feeling,” Spock says, and Nyota really wants to kiss him, but there are still some cadets behind her yelling about something.

“Can we be alone somewhere?”

“Captain Pike reserved a hotel room for me. I will be taking the shuttle back to the Academy with you tomorrow.”

“So that’s a yes,” Nyota says, looking up at his eyes. His face is shrouded in darkness, and she just wants to look at him.

“Affirmative.” Spock looks over her shoulder at the rowdy cadets lingering outside the bar. “Perhaps we ought to take a more circuitous route to the hotel.”

“Agreed,” Nyota says. “So what kept you so long?”

“I did not arrive until noon due to an unforeseen delay with the shuttle I boarded. Therefore, the maintenance checks were pushed. Captain Pike also wished to obtain my opinion on several aspects of the science equipment that will not even be installed for another year. I was unable to leave. Pike then insisted we eat dinner together, and it would have been rude to turn him down. I would rather have spent dinner otherwise,” Spock says, and she can feel his apology coursing through her veins.

“It’s okay,” Nyota says into the darkness. It wasn’t okay really, but she’s holding Spock’s hand and walking with him beneath the stars right now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Are you well?” Spock asks as they turn down the street their hotel is on.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You were angry when you exited the bar.”

“Oh,” Nyota says, and doesn’t want to talk about Tracy anymore than she did at the beginning of her summer. She drops his hand and turns to face him under the streetlamp.

“I’m fine. This guy was chatting me up, you know. I wasn’t interested, but he made a joke, so I laughed. It was no big deal, he wasn’t being an asshole really. Tracy decided to give him a nosebleed for it. I really didn’t need defending, and Tracy can go shove his stupid fists up his asshole.”

Spock stares at her intently, placing his hands behind his back. “Who is Tracy?”

“I don’t really want to talk about him. He’s-” Nyota breaks off her sentence and crosses her arms. “Cadet Tracy decided he wanted to date me, wouldn’t stop asking for my comm number and hitting on me, so I talked to Captain Pike and it got dealt with. I didn’t tell you because there was nothing you could do about it, and it was a week after I left, and we hadn’t been dating long at all. I really, really don’t want to talk about him anymore. Can we please just drop it?”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

Spock’s voice is even, calm, no trace of emotion to be found, and she’s suddenly paying attention to his body language. He’s holding himself so stiffly, his gaze intent on her face. The glare of the streetlight makes it so Nyota has to look away from him. She stares into the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not just men. Everyone’s kind of flirty. It’s annoying, and it was even before I met you.”

Spock touches her shoulder, but there's no rush of feeling down that floods through her, just his fingers. When she reaches out to him, she's met only with a smooth wall. Nyota is frightened suddenly, afraid that something's wrong.

“Spock, what's happening?”

“Come inside,” he says, clipped and short. Nyota stands still for a moment before following him, uncertainty evident in her gait. His hands are still clasped behind his back, and Nyota watches them as she follows him into the turbolift. Thankfully, there's no one else riding up. Not so great: the wall of silence Spock is imposing between them.

“Spock,” Nyota says, and there's panic in her voice when they get off on the seventh floor. It's the floor her room is on, but apparently his room is here too, because he marches right past the door with 722 on it. Captain Pike’s room is 743, and Spock’s is next to his in 745.

Nyota is worried that there's something genuinely wrong as she follows Spock into the silent room. The lights flicker on when they step inside. Spock takes off his hat and sets it precisely on the bedside table, not saying a word or sending a glance her way while he performs the action.

“Spock, talk to me please. You're scaring me.”

“Nyota,” he says, and there's something that she hasn't heard before in his voice. It's dark and low and sends a shiver down her spine.

“What?” she asks, twisting her fingers in the hem of her skirt.

Spock steps around the bed and stands in front of her. The clear brown of his eyes is too intense, so Nyota studies the angle of his eyebrows instead.

“It has been seventy-eight days, twenty one hours, five minutes and thirteen seconds since I was last alone with you.”

“Okay,” she says softly, reaching her hand up to cup his face. “I've missed you too. Now please, tell me what's going on.”

Spock instead raises his hand to her face, his fingers hovering over her meld points, waiting for Nyota’s permission. She nods, a quick movement.

His fingers sear into her skin, the images hot and  _ angry _ . Spock is jealous of her, angry that so many people have tried to seek her affections. He is aware of the illogical nature of his jealousy, but there is the tendril of his thought that whispers  _ relationships are logical for the mutual benefit of those involved, and to wish to have your partner’s affections directed towards oneself is not illogical. _ Laced with the anger is desire, the want for her body and aching to kiss her like he has been unable to for months. There's a question, too, his own uncertainty surrounding her boundaries with touch and what will and won't be alright.

Nyota stares at him, her pulse quickening as she processes everything Spock has allowed her to see. She turns her head, breaking the meld to kiss his palm. Maybe it’s the alcohol or their prolonged time apart that leaves her with no hesitation in her response, but she’s not thinking about that right now. It’s been too long since she last saw Spock, and even longer since she’s felt his skin. Every ounce of desire she has felt for him over the months she has watched him compacts into her response.

“I'll tell you if you need to stop,” she says, and pulls his head down to hers.

The hitch in his breath when she takes off her uniform makes her want to kiss him, it’s so soft and small. It's a little awkward at first, and Spock knows she hasn’t done this before, so he takes his time. He's afraid to hurt her, questioning in his eyes everywhere he touches her.

“More pressure is better,” Nyota says breathlessly and shows his hands exactly how to cradle her body.

Spock moves with an assuredness that tells her he's done this before, but Nyota doesn't have the brain capacity to think about his previous experience when he touches her like that. It's overwhelming and exactly right all at once, and she tells him in so few words while his fingertips drill heat into the side of her face.

The ways he looks when he stutters above her makes her want to stop time and freeze it forever, his abandonment of control made clear even as his heart pumps green blood into his chest and cheeks.

Nyota lies next to him afterwards, sweaty from the heat of his body. She turns her head to look at Spock, the color still high in his cheeks. He's looking at the ceiling and attempting to regulate his breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. He senses her eyes on him and turns to meet her eyes.

“Satisfactory?” He asks, and his mouth quirks up into an almost smile.

“Are you asking a question to which you already know the answer? How unlike you,” Nyota says, and giggles.

Spock raises his eyebrow. “I wished to ascertain your honest opinion. It was not intended to be a self-serving question.”

“Mhmm,” Nyota says, and touches his torso to let him know she’s more than satisfied.

She really needs to pee, so she hauls herself over the side of the bed and fumbles around for her underwear. She manages to grab Spock’s undershirt instead. Nyota ponders whether to keep fumbling in the dim light or just to take it as some sort of warmth for leaving bed. She decides something is better than nothing against the chill she knows she'll feel against her naked body.

Spock raises himself on an elbow to watch her don his shirt. It’s so long on her it covers her ass almost completely. Nyota flicks her mane of hair over her shoulder and pads into the bathroom, the door hissing shut behind her.

When she comes out, she's washed the makeup off her face and neatened her hair slightly. She stands at the foot of the bed and looks at Spock, who has sat up and is checking his inbox on his padd.

“Do you want me to stay?” Nyota asks softly.

Spock looks up at her, his gaze flicking over her body.

“If you are not required to return to your room, your company would not be unwelcome.”

“I don't have to go back,” Nyota says, and immediately realizes that if she sleeps with Spock, she's not going to have her blanket. She hasn't slept a single night without the embroidered poly-blend beneath her cheek since she was two, and she doesn't think she can start now.

“Actually,” she starts, then feels embarrassed and falls silent. She's going to be twenty-one in a couple days. It sounds so infantile when she thinks about it.

“What is it,” he asks, and there's that note of something approaching concern in his voice. His hair is mussed slightly, and Nyota remembers his constant questions about her comfort.

“I need my blanket to go to sleep,” she says, and doesn't meet his eyes. “I haven't slept without it for as long as I've had it, which is pretty much my entire life. I know that's illogical and highly unusual and I'm almost twenty-one, but I can't sleep with my blanket. So if I'm staying, I need to go get my blanket.”

Spock blinks slowly. “Nyota, you have apprised me of your need to follow patterns of behavior that may appear illogical to the uninformed. However, I am aware that your actions are logical due to the unique way your brain processes. If you wish to retrieve your blanket so you may spend the night with me, I will wait patiently for your return.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says, and twists the hem of his shirt in her fingers. She's uncertain about getting dressed in front of Spock, but he's seen her naked, so it's not like he's going to be surprised. Nyota yanks his shirt over her head and reaches for her bra on the floor. Spock watches her get dressed, informing her that she's put her skirt on backward as she tugs it on.

She sits on the edge of the bed to pull her socks and boots on, standing when she's finished.

“I'll be back in a minute or two,” she says, and walks around to kiss his forehead. Spock only says “The time that elapses between now and your return will likely eclipse two minutes,” and returns to his padd.

Nyota holds her breath when the door to her room hisses open, and lets it out when she realizes that the only cadet occupying the room is Ana.

“Did everyone go back to the bar?” Nyota asks as she rifles through her bed in search of her blanket.

“Yeah. I stayed back to call Wes,” Ana says, and looks at her curiously. “What are you doing? Are things okay with your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, they're great,” Nyota says absentmindedly as she finally finds her blanket underneath her pillow. She shoves it in her bag and quickly closes it.

“Is he staying in the hotel?” Ana is curious, and Nyota can't blame her.

“Yeah, I'm just grabbing my things and I'm going to spend the night with him. I'll be on the shuttle in the morning, don't worry.”

“Okay,” Ana says and waggles her eyebrows. “Have fun.”

“Mmhmm,” Nyota says, nearly out the door. “See you in the morning.”

She almost runs into Captain Pike in the hallway. “Sorry sir,” Nyota says, and tucks her suitcase behind her.

The captain raises his eyebrows and looks at her suitcase. “Heading somewhere in a hurry, Uhura?”

_ Okay, not really how she wanted to do this. _

“Not really,” she says, and stares at the the Starfleet insignia on the captain’s jacket.

“You going to be on that shuttle in the morning?”

“Yes sir.”  _ Shit _ , Nyota thinks. She really should explain herself, what with the captain fixing her with that look.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Cadet?”

_ It's not that hard. Just say it, Nyota. _

“Commander Spock and I are dating,” she says all in a rush.

The captain’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

“You and Spock?” Pike makes no attempt to hide his surprise. “He hasn't mentioned anyone, and I didn't think he did feelings, besides.”

Nyota knows the captain is speaking from ignorance, so she bites back her curt remarks.

“The Commander and I are both private people,” she says instead. “And his emotions are none of your concern, sir. Am I free to leave, Captain?”

Pike looks her over once again and shakes his head. “Spock has a girlfriend, huh? Who would have guessed? Yes, Uhura. You're dismissed.”

Nyota hurries down the hall and stops outside Spock’s door before she realizes her comm is in her bag, which is inside the room. She doesn't know the key code for his room and and can't contact Spock to get it, so she stands outside the door for twenty seconds, frozen with indecision.

She turns to look down the hall, but the captain has disappeared into his room. Nyota knocks, hoping Spock’s sensitive hearing will pick up the dull noise. She waits ten more seconds until the door slides open and she's staring at Spock’s chest. He steps aside to let her in, and she pulls her suitcase in behind her.

“I left my comm in here,” Nyota explains.

She dumps her bag next to the bathroom door before she turns to Spock, who is looking intently at her legs.

“I had to tell Captain Pike about us,” she says, and Spock’s brow furrows. “He was going into his room when I came out in the hall. He is my superior officer, you know, and he wanted to know where I was going with my suitcase. So I told him. He made a rude comment about emotions and expressed his disbelief.”

“That is the reaction I would expect from Captain Pike,” Spock replied smoothly. “Come here.”

Nyota is a little confused, but steps closer to Spock. He squats to get a better look at her legs. His hands wrap around her knees and he lets out his breath in his approximation of a sigh.

“I've hurt you,” he says. “I apologize for causing you harm.”

She tugs at his shoulders. “Am I bruised?”

Spock rises to meet her, pressing a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. There are definitive marks around your knees, and it can be deduced they are from my hands.”

Nyota shakes her head. “I don't care. My knees don't hurt.”

“If you are certain,” Spock says, and his hand slides down her back to sit just above the curve of her ass.

“I am,” she replies and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

⋘⋙

Nyota feels a little achy in the morning when her alarm goes off. She fumbles at her padd to turn it off, shifting away from the warmth of Spock next to her. She threw off the blankets some time in the middle of the night, sweating against Spock’s body. Spock wakes a moment later, his fingers curling against the nape of her neck.

“Good morning, Nyota,” he says, and the sleep still in his voice makes something in her chest leap.

“Morning, Spock,” she replies, smiling. “The shuttle leaves at 0900. It’s 0731 right now. I'm going to go on a run and take a shower before breakfast.”

She's climbing out of bed and walking towards her bag, shivering slightly as she gets dressed.

“Do you want to join me?” Nyota asks as she pulls her sports bra over her head. “I'm just going to the gym here in the hotel, so it's not like we’ll be out in cornfields or anything.”

“I had planned on utilizing the gym,” Spock says smoothly. He's putting on his own regulation sweatpants with  _ Starfleet Academy _ running down the leg and tugging his grey tshirt over his head. Nyota catches a glimpse of his graduation year when he bends down to put on his shoes, and starts when she sees he graduated only two years ago.

She tugs her hair into a high ponytail and kisses Spock before they exit his room slightly apart. Several hotel guests and a few cadets take the turbolift down with them, but Spock and Nyota are spaced a respectable distance apart.                                                                  


There are only a couple of cadets in the gym at this hour, most of them nursing hangovers. Nyota chooses a treadmill close to the wall, while Spock gets on one closer to the door. She watches him while she runs, the even pace he keeps as mile after mile runs away beneath his feet. It's infuriating, the lack of sweat stains on his light gray shirt compared with the soaked neckline of her own. She really shouldn’t be watching him, not now, when she knows what his back looks like underneath his shirt and there are other cadets in the gym. 

Spock informs her that taking a shower together is not a wise decision if she wishes to eat breakfast, so Nyota packs her bag, setting aside a clean uniform and her cosmetics bag while he is in the sonic.

He shaves while she applies eyeliner, and it's strange how easily they move around each other, how well silence sits between them without either of them needing to fill it.

The hallways are spilling over with cadets when they go down to breakfast, so Nyota leaves Spock’s room two minutes before he does. Ana smiles broadly at her when she sits down next to her at a table.

Nyota won't elaborate about her night, just smiles and says, “It was nice.”

Ana’s eyes narrow when Spock enters the room, focusing on his pointed ears and stiff shoulders. She looks at Nyota, who is studiously dissecting her waffle.

“He's not a cadet,” Ana says.

“Commander Spock has not been a cadet for a couple of years now,” Nyota replies, and primly eats a bite of her waffle.

“So the Vulcan officer who just walked in is a commander. And you knew that without looking at his rank stripes.”

“Many cadets are aware of Commander Spock. He was the first Vulcan to join Starfleet.”

“He wasn’t here yesterday, and he is now.”

“Fascinating,” Nyota says, not encouraging further conversation.

“Nyota, you are something else. I'm not trying to pry, but how the hell did you bag a Vulcan? And an officer no less?”

“There were zero bags involved,” Nyota says, and she's knows she being a hardass, but Ana is speaking a little louder than she would like. “Please be quiet. I would really prefer people not sticking their noses in our business.”

Ana nods, then pulls out her padd to send her a message.  _ Do you want to keep it hidden because he's your teacher or something? Is it against the rules? _

_ He is not my teacher or my employer. We're just private. We are not doing anything against the rules. _

_ Okay. So long as he makes you happy _ .

_ He does _ , Nyota types back, and looks over at Spock, who is seated with Captain Pike. The captain is looking at her though, so she looks down at her padd and pretends to be occupied. She knows Spock is probably being incredibly tight-lipped about the whole situation, for which Nyota is thankful.

She manages to walk next to him out to the shuttle, and his hand brushes against hers. She knows it's not an accident, because it's Spock, and every touch is premeditated with him. He has to sit in the front with Captain Pike, though, so she settles in a seat in the middle and prepares herself for the boring flight ahead of her. It's not like she doesn't have plenty to think about, but the shuttle ride is short enough she doesn't want to bother getting her padd out.

Nyota is a little surprised to see Jim Kirk from the bar last night when he gets on the shuttle and sits across from her.

“Never did get that first name,” he says, and she smiles, thinking of the way her name sounded in Spock’s mouth last night. Some things she keeps to herself, and Kirk doesn't need her name to think she's pretty.

She half-listens to Kirk and the doctor who sits down next to him converse, their words barely registering as she turns over the events of last night over and over again. Nyota had thought that sex with Spock would be different somehow, that it would change their relationship in a way she wasn't prepared for. But this morning had been- easy. It was like things were just meant to be that way between them, as if sex had smoothed some invisible wrinkle between them. Nyota wasn't sure how this would change things back at the Academy, if she would start spending nights with Spock, but they would have time to discuss that later.

The Academy shuttlepad is, for some unexplained reason, under construction, so they land at the San Francisco shuttleport. Nyota decides to take the bus back to the Academy. She is waiting at the stop with her fellow cadets when her comm chirps.

“If you would prefer an alternative to public transit, my car is in the parking garage. However, I am also providing Captain Pike with conveyance, so you would be in the backseat.”

Nyota glances around to see if she can spot Spock and the Captain anywhere, but they’re likely still inside. She would really rather spend twenty minutes in traffic with Captain Pike than forty-five on the bus. She starts walking back towards the doors, saying “That would be really nice. Where are you?”

“The Captain and I are by baggage claim. I will inform him we are waiting for you.”

“Okay. I'll see you in a minute,” Nyota says, and flips her comm shut.

Pike raises his eyebrows at Nyota and wishes her a good morning when she appears in the maze of lifeforms waiting for their bags.

“Good morning, Captain Pike. Commander,” she nods at Spock.

“Cadet Uhura,” Spock nods almost imperceptibly in return.

Captain Pike doesn't say anything until Spock has loaded their bags into the trunk of his car and Nyota is sitting behind Spock.

“So how did you two meet?” he asks. 

Nyota doesn't have to see Spock’s face to know the lack of expression that just crossed it.

“Cadet Uhura attended a section of Intermediate Phonology I taught last fall.”

“Fraternization between teachers and cadets is expressly forbidden. Did you violate regulation, Spock?”

“Sir, I believe you are well acquainted with my character and are aware I would not commit such an indiscretion. Since you insist on being informed about my relationship with Cadet Uhura, we did not fraternize during the spring semester either, when she was my teaching assistant.”

Pike turns to look at Uhura in the backseat, who is hiding her twisting hand between her body and the car door.

“Of course you didn’t,” he says, and winks at her.

“Sir, I am uncertain as to why the nature of Commander Spock and my relationship is such a matter of interest for you. You are aware that the commander is a private individual. I am too. Neither of us have broken any regulations, sir.”

Pike turns back to look out the front window again. “Uhura, it’s not rude to ask a couple how they met or how long they’ve been together. It’s normal. I meant no disrespect to you or Spock, and it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine. I can’t help being a little curious, though, when I can’t even get Spock to come out for a drink with me in the name of friendship, and it turns out he’s dating a fellow human.”

“Cadet Uhura and I have not consumed alcohol together, Captain,” Spock says, and Uhura knows he’s trying to lighten the mood, give some leeway to Pike. 

“Spock doesn’t do alcohol, sir,” Nyota says, knowing that Vulcans aren’t even affected by it in the way humans are. “He does, however, drink tea.”

She’s trying to bridge the gap between Pike, who is obviously making human gestures to get to know his first officer better, and Spock, who views these actions as useless in a professional relationship. She wishes she could see Spock’s face, but instead she’s left with the back of his head and the rigid set of his shoulders. 

“Thank you, Uhura,” Pike replies, and she knows he’s more grateful than he lets on.

The captain is genial in the parking lot, telling Nyota it was a pleasure having her this summer.

“Thank you for the opportunity and employment,” Uhura says, and steps a little closer to Spock. The captain gives the Vulcan salute to Spock before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Let’s see about a cup of tea sometime, Spock,” the captain says. He doesn't notice Spock’s blink that's his equivalent of a flinch, but Nyota does, and her hand reaches for his.

Pike winks again when he catches their brief moment of contact. “I'll stop bothering you two now,” he says, and starts walking towards the center of campus.

Nyota allows Spock’s hand to engulf hers, the warmth of his emotion sliding up her arm.

“I didn't have any plans for today,” she says, turning to face him, their hands still linked.

“I received a message this morning from my mother that she and my father will be in town for a week starting on Thursday,” Spock says without preamble, releasing her hand. “You are not obligated to meet them.”

He's watching her carefully. Nyota nods, tracing the seams of his uniform across the planes of his torso with her eyes. She is uncertain she wants to meet Spock’s father due to their strained relationship, but she does want to meet Amanda Grayson. She’s curious about the people who raised Spock, wants to know where he came from.

“I want to, though,” she says, and looks up at him, squinting in the sunlight. “I just really know nothing about them, and I feel like you know so much about my family. If I agree to dinner with your parents, you have to tell me about them.”

Spock reaches his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “An acceptable trade,” he says.

Nyota realizes they've been standing by his car for far too long just looking at each other, and reaches down to grab her suitcase.

“Will you make me another Vulcan dish?” She asks him as they step onto campus grounds and subtly shift apart.

“I would not be opposed to introducing you more of my native cuisine.”

⋘⋙

Nyota’s cubes of vegetables are less uniform than Spock’s, but he makes no comment about her lack of knife skills. She measures the bright spices into the pan under his careful tutelage, afraid she’s going to accidentally dump too much of something in.

Nyota tries to hide her distaste when she tastes the  _ barkaya marak _ . Spock notices her expression, though. He notices everything.

“It is not to your liking,” he says, and she’s already tripping over herself to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I wish that I did, I mean, we spent all that time together making it, and I feel like I’ve ruined our time together because I’m so picky. I want to like it, Spock, I do. I’m sorry,” Nyota says again, and tears are threatening to drip onto her cheeks. 

“Nyota, I have not taken offense. The time we spent preparing this meal together was important to you. I too have found your company a welcome change to these months alone. Would you like something else to eat? I have the remainder of some plomeek soup in my refrigeration unit.”

“That would be really nice. Thank you, Spock.” 

Nyota doesn’t know if she’ll ever stop be overwhelmed by Spock’s kindness. She knows that her mother’s intolerance and impatience throughout her childhood has made her apologize too often for the parts of herself she cannot change, but she has not changed her protective habits even after all these years she’s been living outside her mother’s home. She doesn’t say this, though, even though she’s sure Spock knows there’s something more than her desire to please him. He doesn’t pry, an even more appealing attribute than his kindness. 

“ _ Nemaiyo _ ,” she says again as he rises to get her food.

“You have already thanked me. It is unnecessary to do so for a second time.”

“Perhaps my thanks cannot be adequately expressed in one language and I felt the need to reiterate it in another language to better deliver the sincerity of my thanks.”

Spock turns from the stove to face her. “I am not given to the human tendency of asking questions that appear to cause discomfort after observation. However, it is because of the nature of our relationship that I feel prompted to ask what it is I have done that requires such thanks.”

Nyota’s knee starts bouncing uncontrollably and she can’t meet his eyes as she takes a shaky breath in. 

“My mom never had much grace for my food preferences when I was growing up,” she says.

Spock’s brows meet in the middle of his forehead. “If you would elaborate.”

“She said I was ungrateful for not liking the food she prepared, refused to buy me my own food when I offered to cook for myself, and repeatedly made fun of my pickiness and tendency to eat the same six foods over and over again. In short, she humiliated me.”

Spock turns back to the stove to tend her soup, and Nyota is left to stare at his back. Normally, she would be thinking about the way his uniform fits him, the way she knows his back ripples beneath the fabric, but right now, she feels too exposed to concentrate on anything but Spock’s silence as he pours the purple soup into a bowl for her. He takes her barely-touched dish and replaces it, still without saying a word. It’s not until Spock is seated across from her again that he says anything.

“I did not intend to cause you pain, and I offer an apology if I have done so. Nyota, I do not understand your mother’s behavior. It is illogical to criticize a behavior you cannot control if it causes no one else harm. You cannot control your palate. I have offered repeated assurance that I understand why your behavior is not illogical, but I find myself at a loss as to what course of action I should pursue, Nyota.”

She’s staring into her soup, stirring it repeatedly without lifting her spoon to her mouth. She finally lifts her gaze to meet his. It is obvious that Spock appears uncomfortable expressing his uncertainty. She cannot be angry with him _. _

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” Nyota says, and heaves a heavy sigh. “I just feel so inadequate every time something like this happens, like I need to apologize for my existence. I don’t want to be a bother.”

He reaches a hand across the table and rests his fingertips on her knuckles. “It was no great inconvenience, Nyota. You are not, as you put it, a bother.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice still small. 

They eat in silence, and Nyota does not want to fill it. Spock’s hand remains on hers, and she can feel the calm resting on her shoulders that he sends her. When her spoon scrapes the bottom of her bowl, she speaks.

“Is it alright if I spend the night? I have things to do, and I assume you do to, but I want to spend a little time with you before the crush of school begins again.”

“There is nothing that would obstruct your staying here,” Spock says, but his face is free of the micro expressions that Nyota knows to watch for.

“Are you sure?” She hates the hesitancy in her voice, but Nyota is unsure that he’s actually okay with her being in his space for such an extended period of time. Last night was- different. She felt bolder then. It was probably that shot of jack, she realizes.

“Do you require me to repeat my earlier statement? I would have informed you if your presence would have obstructed my schedule.”

“Sometimes you’re hard to read,” Nyota says, wishing that she had video called Spock at least once this semester. She’s out of practice if she missed the slightest movement of his eyebrow. 

They spend the evening in relative silence as they both attend to their business. Nyota sits next to him on the couch and starts in on homework for her upcoming classes while Spock works on the coursework for the classes he will be teaching this fall. There is a small distance between them until she puts her feet up and rests them on his thigh. Spock turns to look at her in question, but she purposefully remains engrossed in the reading for Beginning Xenobiology. It is four minutes later that his left hand finds her ankle and rests there, where it remains until dinner time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have four things to say today:
> 
> 1\. I’m very uncomfortable writing explicit sex. What you see is what you get. 
> 
> 2\. A million thanks to my lovely beta, LiuetenantSaavik!
> 
> 3\. I’m drawing to a close here! I did make this the first of a series because there are several small sequels but..... they're all WIPs at this point in time because I have a million other WIPs I'm spending my time on. I'm hoping to get the first one done so I can just post it on my normal posting schedule once I finish publishing LBW, but..... no promises. I'll keep you updated on their status.
> 
> 4\. Please leave me a comment telling me what you think. If I get zero feedback, I genuinely think it means no one liked this chapter. If you feel too overwhelmed on here/want to be anonymous or whatever, my [tumblr inbox](https://karikes.tumblr.com/ask) exists. PLEASE tell me what you think. Even if it's just keysmashing. Every single comment is treasured, no matter how small or large.


	11. she knew few words

Gaila is watching Nyota fling the majority of her closet into her bed with undisguised amusement.

“You're having dinner with his parents, and not a single thing you own is appropriate? I would lend you something of mine, but you just yelled  _ cleavage _ at one of your dresses, so I'm guessing nothing I have is conservative enough.”

“You guessed correctly,” Nyota says without turning to face her roommate. “I mean, I know they're on Earth and they know that humans aren't as conservative, but I'm dating their son. I want to make a good impression, whatever the hell that means.” 

“Aha!” She shouts as she pulls out the dress she was looking for. 

It’s the one dress she has that actually hits her knees and has a higher neckline. There's a more exposed back, but Nyota feels better about that somehow. There isn't her normal preference of a floral pattern on the dress, and it's a muted shade of purple.

“Nyota, that's the most boring dress I've ever seen. Did someone die?”

“It's dinner. With his parents! I feel weird about it and I'm worried about making a good impression, and it's not like he can meet my parents or anything with their current viewpoint, so this is it. The big one. God, why did I tell him I wanted to do this?”

Gaila shrugs. “He's your boyfriend, not mine.”

Nyota sheds the fifth dress she gave the courtesy of trying on before she rejected it.

“I really do want to meet his parents. His mom is so cool. She did work on the universal translator back in the day. Did you know that? His father, I'm intimidated by because he's- well, Spock told me some things about him that make me hesitant to like him. Plus he’s an Ambassador. To all of Earth. That’s huge pressure. Will you zip me up?” she asks, turning her back to Gaila.

Gaila pulls up the zipper, her hands a soft pressure against the lines of Nyota’s back. 

“Nyota, you'll be fine. You hounded Commander Spock on the first day of class when everyone else was too intimidated to. If you could handle him, I'm pretty sure you can handle his father Have a good conversation with his mother if all else fails.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says. She takes a deep breath and selects a plain white pair of earrings. 

Spock blinks when he sees her. She looks more conservative than he is used to, and even her smile at his appearance is dimmed. Nyota decided to leave her hair down, a break from her usual ponytail, and she's wearing a dress that looks nothing like her usual attire. He makes no comment on her appearance, however, deeming it unnecessary to do so. 

“Good evening, Spock,” she says, and quickly reaches her hand up to adjust his already perfectly straight collar. They haven't seen each other since two nights ago, when he had lingered kissing her as she was about to leave. Nyota still bore bruises where he had held her hips as her knuckles turned white on his headboard.

“Good evening, Nyota,” he replies, the deep tone of his voice vibrating ever so slightly through her hand. She drops it and looks at him. They haven't moved from the bottom of the steps of her dorm, and someone is probably watching because it's move-in day.

Spock catches her gaze. “Are you well?”

“Yeah, I'm good. I'm nervous, but I'm good.”

“Anxiety upon meeting new people is illogical.”

“But they're not just any people! They’re your parents.” Nyota is frustrated right now, and starts walking towards the parking lot without waiting for Spock to reply. He follows her, hands behind his back.

“I am aware of my parents’ identities.”

Nyota wants to grab his perfect hair and yank it, just to see his expression. Spock is being a hardass, and she doesn't have the emotional energy for it.

“Spock,” she says, stopping short on the path. “I need- I need you to not do that right now. I need you to hold my hand and tell me I'll be fine, that I won't fuck anything up. Please.”

Spock’s shoulders soften slightly as he brings his hand around from behind his back and takes her own.

“You will be fine, Nyota. You will not fuck anything up,” he says so seriously she knows he's laughing inside even though it's dark and he hasn’t sent it rushing through her veins.

Spock intoning  _ fuck _ with so little inflection causes Nyota to double over laughing. He watches her with something akin to amusement, still grasping her hand.

“I was not aware following your instructions was designed to cause you mirth.”

“Spock,” Nyota says, and wipes a tear from her eye. “Thank you. I feel a little better now.”

Her hands twist at her sides as she climbs out of his car, though. It’s not the first time she wishes she could contain her emotions a little better. Nyota stares at the restaurant sign in looping Vulcan script, the Standard translation printed below it, while she waits for Spock. He glances at her turning wrists when he walks around to her side of the car.

“You are still anxious,” he states. “Meditative techniques will help you control your anxiety.”

“Thanks,” Nyota says in her most sarcastic tone. “I was unaware I was still anxious.”

“Nyota, I was offering to help.” 

Her face softens as she places her hand on his chest. “Oh.”

“If you will allow me-” Spock raises his hand to hover by her face.

“We’re going to be late,” Nyota starts, turning her head to look at the lights of the restaurant. Vulcans are punctual. There is no doubt in her mind Spock’s parents are already sitting, hands neatly in their laps, for her and Spock. 

“But okay,” she says hurriedly as Spock starts to withdraw his hand.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the coolness of his mind and the heat of his fingertips pressing into her temple. It’s an inimitable feeling, to stare into his eyes and to know his thoughts as surely as she knows her own. 

Spock guides her through a simple clearing of thoughts, offering his breath as a focus point. It’s maybe five minutes that they stand there, their connection slowly drifting from his skin to hers as they breathe in tandem. 

Someone slams a car door down the street and Nyota starts, breaking the calm seeping from Spock’s fingertips. She feels settled, grounded even, despite her startling.

“ _ My thanks are as many as the stars _ ,” she says in Cardassian.

“There is no need for thanks,” Spock replies in Standard. “Do you feel sufficiently ready to enter?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Nyota says.

They are late after all. Amanda Grayson and Sarek are seated at their table, waiting, as Nyota pictured. They both rise when Spock approaches with Nyota.

“Spock,” his mother says warmly, raising her hand in salute. “And you’re Nyota. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Amanda,” Nyota replies, returning the gesture. 

“ _ I’na’shau nash-veh odu, Sarek _ . I now greet you (with respect),” she says to Sarek, who raises his eyebrow before giving the proper response.

“ _ Kaing i’puna’shau kesaing. _ You are equally greeted in turn.”

“Please, call me Amanda,” Spock’s mother says with a warm smile.

Nyota is incredibly grateful she’s sitting next to Spock, but she’s also across from Sarek. She doesn’t know how to feel about the ambassador’s gaze being focused on her so intently. Spock’s knee rests against hers underneath the table and his fingers find her for a brief second in  _ ozh’esta _ . He sends her the memory of their connected breathing before withdrawing his hand to his lap again. Nyota exhales deeply and concentrates on the warmth of his knee against hers.

“So, Nyota, Spock told me you’re in xenolinguistics,” Amanda prompts with a smile on her face.

“I am,” Nyota says as steadily as she can. Breathe in, breathe out. She can do this. 

“How did you meet Spock?” Sarek interjects. 

Nyota knows without turning her head that the corner of Spock’s mouth just turned down ever so slightly. 

Amanda says, “Sarek,” in something approaching disapproval.

“I first exchanged words with Nyota when I proctored aptitude tests last summer,” Spock says before she can figure out what exactly constitutes a “meeting.” She’s grateful he spoke, because there was just about to be a very long pause in which she panicked. It was a meeting only in technicality, as if six words and no names made them acquainted, but apparently Spock deemed it the correct way to respond. It’s not the same way he answered Pike’s inquiry, and Nyota wonders if his insistence on technicality is because his mother is watching.

The questions keep coming, and Nyota’s plomeek soup goes cold before she manages to finish it. Amanda asks her fair share, more about her family, which Nyota answers as carefully as possible. It’s only when Spock’s mother asks if he’s met Nyota’s parents that she blurts out something she’s embarrassed by.

“They’re not speaking to me right now because I’m not dating a human,” she says, and feels the coolness drift across the table from Sarek. Amanda’s spoon clinks as she sets it down in her bowl.

“ _ Sitakuwa na alisema kuwa. Sikuweza kusema kitu fulani mjinga zaidi. Tafadhali acha nife katika mgahawa huu pia-moto chini ya macho nyuma ya meli ya baba yako. _ I should not have said that. I couldn't have said something more stupid. Please leave me to die in this too-hot restaurant under the stern gaze of your father,” Nyota babbles in Swahili.

It’s not like every single set of Vulcan ears in the restaurant can’t hear her, but there is only one pair who actually understands what she is saying. 

“ _ Mimi kupatanisha hali, Nyota _ . I will reconcile the situation,” Spock says, his head turning towards her slightly.

“Father, you know as well as I the irrationality of human behavior.”

Amanda nods while Sarek raises an eyebrow.

“My father’s side of the family stopped speaking to me for ten years when I married Sarek,” the older woman says. She looks at Nyota with concern in her eyes. “They’ll come around eventually.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says, wishing she were somewhere else. 

When they leave the restaurant, Sarek and Spock walk slightly ahead while Amanda steps back to walk with Nyota. Sarek and Spock do not speak, a tense silence resting between them.

“My husband can be overbearing at times. I do apologize if he made you uncomfortable. He simply wants to be sure you are worth your salt.”

“It’s fine,” Nyota says, feeling exhausted. “Thank you, Amanda.”

“Things are good between you and Spock?” Amanda asks, and Nyota knows that she’s genuinely asking.

“Yeah,” Nyota says, ducking her head. “Things are good. Your son- well, he’s Spock. You know how he is.”

“I do,” Amanda says, and looks at her son’s back fondly. “He is not always what I expect him to be, but he is himself.”

“He’s kind to me.” Nyota doesn’t know what prompted that particular sentiment to leave her mouth, but it’s out there in the cool air and Amanda is smiling.

“Spock has always voiced his quiet rebellion in unexpected ways,” Amanda says.

Nyota wants to know what the hell  _ that _ means, but before she can ask for further information, they’ve reached the parking lot and Sarek has stopped in front of a sleek car that must be on loan from the Vulcan embassy.

Amanda goes to hug Nyota when they leave, but Nyota’s awkward reaction and body language clues Amanda into a squeeze on the arm instead. It’s not that Nyota doesn’t like Amanda, it’s just that she’s too drained to sustain physical contact from anyone except Spock right now. She can’t exactly say that right now, though; not with Sarek watching. 

Spock steps behind her and she can feel the heat of his body, he’s standing so close. The wave of warmth pouring of his body in the damp air soothes her. Maybe she’ll ask Spock to say something to Amanda later, reassure his mother that she wasn’t trying to be rude. Nyota smiles as genuinely as she can and raises her hand in salute.

“ _ Sochya eh dif _ ,” she says.

“ _ Diftor heh smusma _ ,” Sarek replies. Nyota is not well-versed in noticing Vulcan tics, only half-Vulcan, but even she knows that Sarek is being polite and nothing more.

She waits until Spock has started driving to speak, the darkness closing in around them like a blanket.

“Your father doesn’t like me. Does it have to do with you two not speaking for so long?”

Spock’s index finger taps once against the wheel. “Not entirely.”

Nyota glances at his smooth face and the set of his shoulders. They’re stiffer than they normally are around her, and he hasn’t reached to set his hand on her thigh like he has done in the past.

“I would like some clarification,” she says, hoping Spock will actually give it.

“I was bonded when I was seven, like all Vulcan children,” he says into the street lights.

“You  _ were _ bonded?” Nyota stresses the past tense, hoping that this curl of anxiety in her chest is for nothing. She knows of the Vulcan tradition of bonding young, but not much besides that. It seems unlikely Spock is still bonded if he has engaged in a relationship with her, but Vulcans are so private, she has no idea of their concept of monogamy.

“My bond was severed a year before I applied to Starfleet. T’Pring desired another, so I released her. My mother disapproved but informed me that she had wondered about my ability to remain bonded to a full-blooded Vulcan. My father viewed our separation as a disgrace and a rebellion against the Vulcan way.”

It’s a long speech about personal matters for Spock, and he falls silent afterwards, leaving Nyota to reach across the space between them to rest her hand on his knee.

“Did you love her?” It’s the only question she can think to ask now, and it’s so fucking selfish, but she needs to know.

“No.”

“Did you desire her?”

Spock’s gaze flits to her fingers splayed across the dark blue of his trousers for a fraction of a second.

“Yes.”

Nyota cannot help the jealousy that rises in her throat. It’s unfair and rude to pry like this, especially since Spock has not asked about her previous relationships. Not like there are any, and he knows she hasn’t had sex with anyone but him. 

“Do you still think about her?”

“I find my thoughts resting elsewhere as of late.” Spock admits this with a brief glance at her; two seconds of eye contact before he focuses on the road again.

Nyota allows her fingertips to tighten slightly around his knee, indenting the fabric in five small places.

“I’ve never liked anyone as much as you,” she says. The black of her fingernails shimmers blue in the lights they’re passing. “It scares me a little.”

Spock remains silent, and the moment stretches until Nyota’s tongue is thick in her mouth from her inability to speak. She removes her hand from his knee. The vulnerability she has just expressed appears to have been lost on Spock, who pulls his key from the ignition and pockets it before turning to her.

Nyota removes her safety belt, her hand on the door handle. She isn’t expecting anything from Spock tonight, not after that stiff dinner and subsequent conversation, which is why she starts when he says her name.

“Nyota,” he intones, almost breathlessly, and it’s such an odd way to hear her name coming from Spock’s mouth that she turns back to him.

He places his left hand on her thigh, his fingers burning through her dress. 

“What?”

Spock doesn’t reply, but his right hand reaches for her cheek and before she knows it, he's kissing her, hard and insistent. The angle is awkward at best, and there’s a crick in Nyota’s neck, but Spock is trying to communicate without words, his tongue slick against hers, so she isn’t complaining.

He pulls her closer, the sharpness of her eyelashes against her cheek flashing in her mind, the heady feeling she gets when his mouth is on hers intensifying as she shares it with him. 

Spock withdraws his hand from her back. She can feel the place where it rested a moment ago, the remembrance of his heat leaving a damp spot on her dress. She’s curious as to what he’s doing, but not enough to break their contact. It’s only when his seat slides farther backward and he tugs her onto his lap that she pulls away.

“Here? Really?”

Spock meets her eyes. “You are distressed. Physical contact under the right circumstances soothes you.”

“Spock, please tell me what’s going on.”

“I find words are currently inadequate to express what I am attempting to communicate.”

Nyota looks at him critically. “So you just want to have sex instead of talking about the conversation we just had and the dinner we shared with your parents?”

Spock moves his hands from her waist to cup her face. “You expressed fear of your feelings for me.”

“You’re being cryptic, Spock.”

Nyota is trembling when his fingers find her meld points and the wave of his emotion hits her. The press of his pelvis beneath her cannot distract her from what he is trying to convey. 

_ Vulcan has no word for love, not like Standard does.  _ Ashaya  _ does not translate with the passion that love does. It’s impossible to grasp the exactness of what she means to him in his native language. Spock does not understand her fear at her feelings for him, but instead remains tentative about the proper time to admit to one’s emotions running so deep in a human relationship. It is not that he finds Standard too crude, that he rejects his mother’s first language as a vehicle to express himself. It is only that he loves her, and he wants to tell her in his native language, and he cannot. So Spock is trying to show her, through passion, what he does not feel his tongue can adequately express.  _

This is what Nyota was afraid to admit to herself, plastering that word on her feelings, calling the too-long crush and subsequent relationship what it is. She thinks about what Spock’s mother said earlier.  _ Spock has always voiced his quiet rebellion in unexpected ways. _

This is his rebellion: loving her in spite of the stern gaze of Sarek, choosing his humanness when he's with her.

“Likewise,” she whispers into his mouth, and he’s smiling, a real honest-to-goodness smile that reaches exactly a quarter of an inch past where the corners of his mouth usually rest.

Spock kisses her hungrily then, and even though it’s awkward and Nyota hits her elbow on the window, they manage. She lays on his chest afterwards, not moving to let him slide out of her, wishing that she could see his face better in the shadow of the car.

“Feelings are weird,” Nyota says, muffled into his sweater, rucked up around his armpits. 

“Weird has variable definitions,” Spock says into her hair.

She smiles. She knows exactly what he means.

⋘⋙

They carefully adjust themselves to look presentable when Spock walks her back to her dorm. Nyota almost doesn’t want to smoothe Spock’s hair out for him. She loves the way it looks after they have sex, so messy and unlike him. But she reaches up and arranges it just so, the press of her fingertips dropping to caress his ears when she’s done.

“You’re really beautiful,” Nyota says, while the light of the staff parking lot is shining on them attempting to look like they didn’t just bang in his car. She doesn’t think she’s ever actually commented on his appearance, just shared her thoughts with him. She wants to say it though, because he is. Spock is gorgeous, and the ache in her chest never leaves when she sees him, and god, she loves him.

“It is not common practice for females of your species to refer to males as beautiful.”

“I’m not a common member of my species,” she retorts, her teeth flashing white.

“You are not,” he says softly. His hand finds hers, and they stand there a little longer, while Nyota tells him again and again how grateful she is for his total acceptance of her. For once, Spock does not tell her that her gratitude is illogical.

⋘⋙

Gaila looks at Nyota and squints, assessing her smudged lipstick from Spock's last goodbye kiss and tired eyes. “Was dinner that bad?”

Nyota debates on how to reply as she steps into their room. She nearly yells when a shirtless Kirk smirks at her. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Uhura!” he exclaims cheerfully. 

“No,” she replies flatly and sets her bag down on her desk chair. Nyota is tired and needs to start an essay due the first week of class before she goes to bed.

Gaila shrugs when Nyota hisses, “He hit on me in Iowa.”

“He’s cute and he’s good in bed. Rules,” she says, pointing at the back of their door.

Kirk is taking far too long to put on his shirt. “You look nice with your hair down, Uhura. How was dinner?”

“None of your business,” Nyota says, at the same time Gaila says, “She met his parents.”

“Oh,” Kirk says, and how the  _ fuck _ does he make  _ oh _ sound like an innuendo?

“Gaila,” Nyota says warningly. “I need to start a paper tonight, and if you want me to tell you anything about dinner, I’d like Kirk gone in the next minute.”

She moves into the bathroom and starts taking off her makeup. She doesn’t allow herself to relax until she hears the door hiss shut. Gaila appears behind her in the mirror.

“I like his mom,” Nyota says as she ties her hair into a ponytail. “I think I could live without his father’s interrogation, however.”

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Gaila says as Nyota turns around. “I can sense it. Your hormones are all over the place.”

“Spock told me he loves me,” Nyota whispers, still marveling at the way the knowledge feels in her mouth.

Gaila’s eyebrows shoot up. “You seem odd, though. Why aren’t you happier?”

“Because,” Nyota sighs, “I want nothing more to call Sanaa and tell her how incandescently happy and at home he makes me feel, and I don’t think she’ll pick up the phone. I’m in love, and I miss my sister, and I still really need to start this paper tonight.” 

Gaila looks at her for a long moment. “Call Eshe.”

Nyota blinks, because she didn’t even think about calling Eshe, despite her sister’s offer to listen to anything. “That’s a good idea, Gaila; thank you.”

“I have lots of good ideas. If I hadn’t pushed you, you and the Commander would have mooned over each other for years and never said a single word. Now you’re having kinky sex and you confessed your love for each other. You can say thank you, Nyota.”

Nyota pushes past Gaila to get her communicator. “Our sex life is, remarkably, composed of only the two of us. You do have good ideas, but it wasn’t your idea that started our  _ private _ sex life, thank you very much.”

Gaila sticks her tongue out, startlingly pink against the green of her skin. “You have multiple hickies and more than a few bruises that match up with the splay of  _ someone’s _ fingers. You can be private all you like, but if you’re changing in front of me, I’m going to notice.”

“Still none of your business,” Nyota says, and flips open her comm. She hesitates a minute before calling, a brief moment of fear that Eshe won’t reply.

“Nyota! I haven’t heard from you in a while! How are things?”

“I met Spock’s parents tonight,” Nyota says, and there’s a lump in her throat because she wants to be telling this to Sanaa.

“So you’re official now, huh? How was it?”

“He and his dad don’t really talk, so it was a little awkward, but his mom is nice. I like her.”

“That’s good,” Eshe says encouragingly. “I’ve been talking to Mom and Dad a lot about interspecies relationships. Sanaa is still being really weird, but I think Dad wants to talk to you. He’s here right now, if you want.”

Nyota reaches for her blanket. “Um, okay, I guess. Put him on.”

She hears Eshe’s muffled footsteps and her father’s voice speaking too quietly for her to hear. Then, his breath into the comm mic.

“Nyota,” he says, and she wants to cry. It’s been too long since she last heard his voice, and she didn’t even know she was aching for it until now. 

She chokes back her tears. “Baba,” she replies.

“What’s his name? Your Vulcan?”

_ He’s not mine _ , Nyota thinks.  _ He is his own and he has invited me in. _

“Spock,” she says instead. “He’s half-Vulcan, though.”

“Is Spock good to you?”

Nyota doesn’t even have to think about her response. “Yes.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Effervescently so.”

There’s the sound of Kibwe’s breathing again, and Nyota swipes a tear from her cheek.

“Then that’s all I want for you,  _ nyota yangu kuangaza.  _ My shining star. I want you to come home for Christmas. Come see your baba. Bring your Spock and let me meet him.”

“What about Mom and Sanaa?” Nyota asks with trepidation.

“I’ll deal with your mother. Sanaa needs to make her own amends. I want you to come, and Eshe and Gabriel do too. That’s enough. There’s been enough cutting off for a lifetime in my family.”

“Okay,” Nyota says. “I’ll ask Spock.”

A long pause. “ _ Nakupenda zaidi ya machweo _ . I love you more than the setting sun.”

“ _ Nakupenda zaidi ya ulimwengu. _ I love you more than the universe,” Nyota whispers back. 

Eshe reappears, bright and bubbly. “So you’re coming for Christmas? Please do! I want to meet your Commander Spock.”

_ He’s not mine _ , Nyota thinks again.  _ But I have kept him for myself. _

She decides, right then and there, that she doesn’t care anymore if people know about her and Spock. Of course, the appearance of favoritism is to be avoided at all costs, which means fellow cadets should be kept in the dark, but if some teachers know, it’s not a big deal. Although it might be interesting to see how long she can keep Kirk out of her business.

“Yeah, I think it’s time I came home anyways. Just- tell Gabriel I said hi, and Sanaa, if she’ll listen. I have a paper to work on, so I need to go, but it was nice to hear your voice.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Eshe says. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Eshe.” 

Nyota flips her comm shut. It’s not that she means to be a stranger. It’s just that all her emotional energy is taken up by Spock right now. And school, when it starts. Her family has shifted and changed over the years. Right now it’s Gaila and Spock. 

Nyota knows, though, that it’s important she goes home this year. It’s going to be hell unless Sanaa decides to apologize. If Spock comes, though, it might be manageable.

Gaila watches Nyota. “That sounded like it went okay,” she says.

“It did,” Nyota sighs, and looks at the dark screen of her padd. “Thank you for being such a good friend, Gaila. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably not being having super great sex,” Gaila says seriously. 

“Will you hug me?”

“Of course.”

Gaila’s arms are tight and warm against Nyota’s back. She breathes in the smell of Gaila’s skin and lets herself relax into the embrace. It’s exactly what she needs.

⋘⋙

Nyota sees Spock again on Friday. They eat lunch together in the cafeteria, their knees touching, but do not hold hands. Commander Ling comes up to Spock and asks him something about class schedules, her gaze lingering on Nyota.

“So,” Ling says, after Spock has answered her question efficiently. “Is Uhura going to be your teaching assistant again, Spock? I hear you worked all hours of the night with her.”

Nyota catches the tone Ling uses, but if Spock does, his expression remains bland. 

“Cadet Uhura was compensated for her overtime appropriately.”

“You paid her overtime?” Ling is surprised.

Nyota finds her cheeks suddenly warm. She was unaware that overtime pay wasn’t mandatory until this exact moment. Spock is fastidiously spearing a tomato with his fork when she looks at him.

“Cadet Uhura deserved adequate compensation for the work she did.” 

Ling raises her eyebrows and fixes Spock with a long look. “You still haven’t answered me about her being your teaching assistant for this semester.”

“Commander Spock has transferred to the computer science department,” Nyota says, clearing her throat. “So, no, I will not be his TA again. Do you want me to be your assistant? Is that why you’re asking, sir?”

Ling has a funny expression on her face as she looks back and forth from Spock to Nyota. “I thought there was something going on between you two. That’s all. Uhura was just always in your office,” she says to Spock.

Nyota swallows her mouthful of lettuce. “We did not break regulations, Commander Ling,” she says, a little more sternly than she should to her superior officer. 

“Mhmm,” Ling says, “Can I get a straight answer from one of you about your relationship status, because I don’t want to be rude, but half the department has been taking bets on how long you’ve been together, and I want to settle it.”

Spock blinks slowly. “Gambling is against Starfleet regulations, Commander Ling.”

“It’s off the books,” she replies firmly. “Now are you two together or aren’t you?”

Nyota looks at Spock, a question in her eyes. The slight inclination of his head is his only response. He is deferring to her, and that small action makes her insides flutter.

“Commander Spock and I are together. Officially,” Nyota says. “We are not participating in your betting games, however. You can keep wondering how long it’s been going on. Sir,” she adds sweetly.

Ling huffs. “I knew it!” Then, “You’re really going to do that to us?”

“Commander Ling,” Spock says in that tone Nyota knows is the closest thing to sarcasm he can manage, “Neither Cadet Uhura or I are doing anything to a large number of the xenolinguistics staff.”

Nyota giggles in spite of herself and presses her knee a little closer to Spock’s underneath the table.

“Damn it,” Ling sighs. “I had my credits on the end of last semester. I think I can still collect something for actually getting it out of you, though.”

Nyota rolls her eyes. Spock’s eyebrows furrow ever so slightly.

“Is that all, Commander Ling?” Spock asks.

“Yup,” she grins. “Have a nice day, lovebirds.”

Spock raises an eyebrow at Ling’s language. “A curious turn of phrase.”

“There’s actually a species of bird that’s super affectionate,” Nyota says. “It’s pretty common to call a new couple that, especially if they’re handsy with each other.”

“Handsy?”

“Touch each other a lot, sit on each other’s laps, make out in public. You know, hands all over.”

“An inaccurate comparison, then. Those are not behaviors either of us employ in public.”

Nyota blushes a little and nods. 

⋘⋙

She makes him go to the ocean with her that day, even though the fog is rolling thick over the bay.

Spock asks her why she wants to go, that now familiar furrow of confusion resting between his eyebrows.

“It is foggy and you will not be able to see the bay. The water is cold and there is no sun showing. It would make more sense to visit a museum if you wish to spend time together.”

“But it’s my birthday and I want to go to the ocean today and sit in the fog with you,” Nyota replies. 

Spock blinks. “The occasion of one’s birth is celebrated with gifts traditionally among humans. Do you wish my company as your gift?”

“Yes.” Nyota feels suddenly shy under the strength of his gaze.

“Very well,” Spock says. He brings his hands behind his back. “It is your birthday.”

“I’ll get hats in case our heads get cold.”

“That will be unnecessary,” Spock says, but Nyota stuffs two beanies in her bag anyways.

She smirks when he sits stiffly next to her on the blanket. The beach is deserted due to the poor weather, and visibility is maybe twenty feet. Nyota is bundled up warmly, thick socks inside her boots. The tips of Spock’s ears are turning green, and he is the closest to hunched over Nyota has ever seen him.

“Are you going to refuse if I offer you a hat again?” she asks, pulling them from her bag.

Spock takes the beanie from her silently, giving it a thorough examination before placing it on his head.

“Thank you, Nyota,” he says, the wind nearly whipping away his words.

She pulls her own beanie over her hair and looks at the edge of the water. They sit and listen to the waves for a couple minutes before Nyota says, “I called Eshe. My dad wants me to bring you home for Christmas."

“Is that wise, considering their prolonged silence and disapproval of our relationship?”

“He said he’d deal with mom and Sanaa and that he really wanted to meet you. Eshe was talking to him, and maybe he came around some on his own. Either way, he still wants us to come.”

“This is important to you,” Spock says, and reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair that has slipped free back under her beanie. It’s not a question. 

“You’ll come then?”

“Yes."

Nyota allows her hands to smile with her mouth. 

“I’m trying to find out where my blanket is from so I can get another one and keep it at your apartment,” she says after another minute of watching the waves. “So I don’t have to plan as much if I stay over this semester.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Spock replies. He’s not watching the waves. “I will send you my schedule for this semester when we return.”

“I love you,” she says suddenly, closing the small distance between them.

“I am aware,” Spock says evenly. He meets her kiss a little less so.

⋘⋙

Their schedules are wildly incompatible. Nyota is working in the linguistics lab again, which means more of her free time is eaten up. After planning out her allotted time for homework, there isn't nearly enough time to spend together, but they'll have to make do. She isn’t about to compromise her studies to spend time with Spock, and he isn’t about to forgo his own obligations to do the same. Nyota is glad they have a mutual understanding about their lack of available time.   


Nyota is taking the first section of xenobiology this semester. It's interesting and  _ hard _ and apparently she's taking it with Kirk’s roommate, who ends up being her lab partner. McCoy is already a doctor, which means he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t make small talk either, which Nyota appreciates immensely.

McCoy’s comm goes off in class three weeks in, and he’s late to lab. Nyota raises an eyebrow in question when he appears.

“Everything alright?” Distant, normal concern.

“My daughter broke her leg. She’ll be fine.”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise her McCoy has a daughter. No wedding ring on his hand, though.

“How old is she?”

“Six. Fell out of a tree.”

“I hope she’ll be okay.”

McCoy just grunts and turns to the sample of Denobulan blood they’re supposed to be examining.

Kirk is waiting for him after class and Nyota nearly winces at his cheerful, “Uhura! Want to get drinks later?”

“I already have plans,” she smiles. “Have a good weekend, McCoy. Kirk,” she nods.

⋘⋙

Spock’s apartment smells like spices and warmth when Nyota comes in. He always leaves his door unlocked, which is a stupid Vulcan practice to keep when he’s on Earth, as she’s told him multiple times. Spock doesn’t turn around from the stove when she takes off her boots and sets her bag down. She takes her jacket off too, relishing the higher temperature of his apartment, but not wanting to sweat through the thick fabric.

“Good evening, Nyota,” he says, stirring the pot in front of him.

“Hello, Spock.” Her response is muffled into his back as she slips her arms around him. “I missed you.”

“How were your classes?”

Nyota pulls away and leans against the counter next to the stove.

“I learned that Vulcans have an internal body temperature of one hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit today. I also have to sign up for a special flight training class that’s going to be held Monday mornings for seven weeks if I plan to graduate as a lieutenant. I’ll try and clear Saturday night, but I work all day so I’ll probably be a mess and not much fun to be around.”

“Whatever time we are able to spend together is satisfactory.” Spock looks up at her, his soft brown eyes crinkling slightly in his approximation of a smile.

“I still can’t find another one of my blanket, and mine is too old for me to replicate it properly. I feel like we can’t be spontaneous, Spock, and we’re boring or something.”

Spock turns the stove off and removes the pot from the heat.

“If you look on the couch, I believe I have managed to procure a suitable copy.”

Nyota doesn’t move for a minute. “Spock, you looked for me? You’re so sweet.”

The blanket is exactly right. The embroidery is the same, and while it’s a little thicker, the fabric feels right between her index finger and thumb.

“You’re the best,” Nyota says, her eyes shining.

“An illogical statement, as you have not specified what area I am the best in.”

“The best boyfriend,” she clarifies, running her fingers along the soft fabric.

“It is impossible to verify the truth of that statement without extensive research parameters.”

“Spock, I'm saying thank you. Shut up.”

He blinks, then nods in acquiescence. “You could have stated that, then. You are welcome.”

⋘⋙

It eases the tenseness of her long days just to see him, even if they only pass in the quad some days. They acknowledge each other, always formal and polite, as befitting a former working relationship.

“Commander Spock,” she says, and thinks of the way he hitches her knee up when he’s deep inside her, the heat of his fingers wrapping around the crease where her bones meet.

“Cadet Uhura,” he replies, and does not remember the pre-reformation poetry she sometimes recites when she takes off her clothes, because they are in public with hundreds of cadets milling around them, and to allow himself to think of such things is to allow his tone to slip ever so slightly.

⋘⋙

Commander Ling teaches Advanced Morphology II and repeatedly asks about her and Spock whenever Nyota visits her office hours. 

It's always something small, like “Tell Commander Spock hi from me,” or “Didn't your boyfriend go over this last semester with you when you TA’d for him?”

Nyota knows the commander is trying to cozy up to her to get her share of the betting pool, which she knows still exists by the sheer number of xenolinguistics staff that greet her in the staff room. She wouldn't even use it without her job in the linguistics lab, but they have good tea and she doesn't have to walk all the way to the cafeteria for it.

Lieutenant Morrisey asks her if she and Spock are celebrating their anniversary soon when midterms roll around. Nyota sips her tea and stares blankly at him.

“Sir, I have two hours left in my shift. After that, I have a twelve page essay to write and thirteen pages of worksheets for the flight training class I'm taking. Right now my schoolwork takes precedence over any personal time I would like to take off.”

Nyota decides that she's going to take ten minutes when she gets off work and place nineteen credits against every single date officers have guessed from August until Christmas. She’s going to make some money off of this if she has to deal with it. Nyota puts down a fellow cadet who also works in the lab as her name and slides her holoprint under Ling’s door. It's obvious the commander is the one managing the thing, no matter how sly she tries to be.

⋘⋙

She doesn't tell Spock about it for two weeks, knowing that he will disapprove. He cites regulation, which she expected, but he also smiles a little at her, which she did not expect.

“The officers have a Christmas party every year,” Spock says, their fingers intertwined. “Captain Pike has informed me it is my duty as future first officer of the  _ Enterprise _ to attend. He also inferred that I should bring a date.”

Nyota sits up in his bed, bunching the sheets around her waist.

“You could actually ask me to go with you,” she says, tracing the outline of his pectoral with her index finger.

“I am.” Spock catches her other hand and sits up. “I'm scheduled to call my mother in 7.3 minutes. I would prefer a quick reply.”

Nyota nods. “Of course I’ll go with you. But social gatherings are hard for me. I don't want to stay for very long. Like an hour or an hour and a half tops.”

“Humans in social situations behave oddly,” Spock replies, his fingers sliding around her neck and tugging her closer.

“I'm glad we’re in agreement about that,” she says a little breathlessly into his mouth.

"We have 6.43 minutes before I am required to answer my mother’s call,” he continues, capturing her lips.

Nyota rises and settles on his lap. “Better hurry, then.”

Spock is buttoning his uniform jacket when Amanda’s call comes through. He smoothes his hair quickly, gives a cursory glance to the socks he has no time to put on, and walks out of his bedroom. The holoscreen in his desk shimmers blue across his face for a brief moment before he disappears into his living room.

“Mother,” she hears him say, “I trust this evening finds you well.” 

Nyota doesn't know if Amanda hears her son’s voice often enough to recognize that tiny loss of control in his first few words. Spock always has a hard time keeping his tone even for the first few minutes after sex, and while Nyota thinks it's cute, Spock views it as an irritation.

“I'm good, Spock. How are you?”

“Acceptable,” Spock replies.

Nyota feels weird eavesdropping on Spock’s conversation with his mom, but it not like she can leave without Amanda seeing her.

She gets dressed as quietly as she can while Amanda talks about her garden. She's reaching for her padd to ask McCoy what time they should meet to finish their lab this week when she hears her name. Nyota pauses, her hand on her padd.

“How is Nyota doing?”

There's a pause in which Spock does not reply. He can't be sure Nyota is dressed, so calling her out to say hello might be a disaster, but he feels it's unnecessary to speak for another when they can offer their own experience. 

Nyota decides to take matters into her own hands and join Spock.

“She's drowning under mounds of schoolwork,” Nyota quips as her hand slides across Spock’s back. His eyebrow twitches slightly at her touch and he turns to look at her.

“Nyota! It's good to see you again.”

“Hello, Amanda,” Nyota says, trying not to think about the last hour she's spent unclothed with Amanda Grayson’s son.

Amanda asks about Nyota’s classes, tactfully avoiding questions about her family. It's actually Spock who brings the subject up, after Nyota has finished talking about her course load.

“I should inform you, Mother, that I will be unable to video call you this year on Christmas. I know that this is an important ritual for you, despite your many years on Vulcan. However, I will be with Nyota and her family on that day. I still wish to converse as well as can be managed via padd, but I will not have a deep space communicator.”

Nyota’s hand smoothes down Spock’s back. “My dad wants us to come,” she tells Amanda. 

“That's wonderful!” Amanda exclaims before composing herself. “A step forward.”

Nyota nods and slips her hand into Spock’s. “I’m hoping for the best. Worst case scenario, we can run into the desert together and have a nice vacation.”

Amanda laughs, a clear and ringing sound that isn’t distorted by distance.

“I’m not sure Spock believes in leisure time. I hope it doesn’t come to that, though,” she says, her expression becoming serious.

Nyota thinks of every meal she and Spock have shared together, remembers his indulgences in her desires to go places, and does  _ not _ think about the hours they have shared in bed. 

“I think I’ve convinced Spock to take some time off once or twice,” she says.

Amanda raises her eyebrows in her best imitation of a Vulcan. “Fascinating.”

“Was there anything else you wished to tell me, Mother?” Spock steers the conversation away from discussion about him. Nyota and his mother becoming friendly is a good thing, but he feels it is unnecessary to discuss his habits as if he were not present.

“No, that’s really everything. I’ll let you go now. Goodbye, Nyota. It was nice seeing you again. Goodbye, Spock. I love you.”

Spock nods. “Goodbye, Mother.”

He terminates the call and Nyota slides her hand up Spock’s arm. “ _ Etek ma wak na'wuh'ashiv pauk. _ We have time for another round,” she says.

Spock appears to be debating the prudence of this course of action, but Nyota lifts his hand to her mouth. She flicks her tongue over his index finger and his eyelids flutter ever so slightly.

“ _ Kuv du nam-tor ac'ruth du ma wak, dungi ri klee'fah. _ If you are certain you have time, I will not refuse.”

Nyota nods. “ _T'nash-veh ek'tal-zup-shal tersu mokuhlek bek-tor wuh'ashiv zamu lirt'k._ My lab partner can wait another few minutes."

⋘⋙

McCoy does not appreciate her tardiness. Nyota smiles at him and says, “Sorry, boyfriend needed something.” 

“Must have been important if you’re ten minutes late.”

“Oh, it was,” Nyota replies. Her legs are still slightly shaky from how hard she came, and she presses them together in remembrance. She needs to change the subject. 

“Andorian nervous systems.”

“Yes,” McCoy says. He always sounds so put upon. “Blue bastards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last thousand words of this chapter gave me so. much. trouble. It ended up being my longest chapter to date, so there’s that for you. (It’s because it was stubborn and wouldn’t just wrap up. I spent an entire day wrangling with it.) 
> 
> Update on the sequels: I've made progress on the first one. I'm going to be a benevolent writer and not make you wait two months for it.
> 
>  _Ozh’esta_ is the finger kiss thingie! You know what it is!
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta LieutenantSaavik, and to every one of you who left me feedback on the last chapter. It really meant a lot to me and I'm so glad you are enjoying it so much!


	12. a gesture that she recognized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posthumous edit (4/27/18): I realized that maybe I should get around to saying that this fic is rated M for a reason, and I know that the first time Spock and Nyota have sex is tame. This chapter has some....not as tame sex. I know I said that I wasn't really cool with explicit stuff, and this chapter contains probably the closest thing to explicit sex I will ever write and publish. 
> 
> There is a reason for that. Autistic people (and yes the intersection of race does play into this) are desexualized all the time. Not only because a large portion of us are deemed unable to get along with another human being long enough to get there, but also because we don't have sex drives or something??? Ace autistic people do exist, and I love them, but I'm not ace, and neither is every other autistic person. The point of the scene in this chapter is that Nyota is autistic and a sexual being. It was written with intent. I sincerely hope that this fic helps expand your viewpoint on autistic people- even their sexuality.

Kirk has become Gaila’s best fuck buddy, and Nyota would be more irritated if Gaila wasn’t so happy. She can’t exactly control who Gaila brings back to their room, and it’s not like Nyota does much besides sleep there anymore. However, Kirk’s habit of hanging around after they have sex is irritating. Nyota actually came back one night at 0039, and he was doing homework with Gaila, both of them still naked.

Which is why Nyota is not surprised that Kirk happens to be lounging around the night of the staff dinner party. Finals took everything out of her, so much so that she almost fell asleep having sex with Spock, who pulled out and told her he would meditate instead so she could get some rest. Nyota almost feels just as embarrassed when she walks out of the bathroom in her underwear to ask Gaila about borrowing some shoes and sees James Tiberius Kirk smirking at her over his padd.

“Fuck off, Kirk,” she says, and walks as normally as she can to Gaila’s side of the closet.

“Do you have anything that isn’t eight inches high?” Nyota mumbles as she sorts through Gaila’s enormous jumble of shoes. She finally finds a pair with a decent heel height that are the right color blue.

Gaila agrees to let her borrow them in exchange for bringing some lifeform with tentacles back to their room. It takes a moment of careful consideration and an admonishment that _nothing crosses the line, not even bodily fluids,_ especially _not fluids_ before Nyota acquiesces.

Gaila helped her shop for her gown. It mostly consisted of Gaila bringing dresses for her to try on that were so short that Nyota knew she couldn’t walk in them without flashing her underwear to every passerby. Nyota finally settled on a long, canary yellow one that exposed her shoulders but wouldn’t be indecent for an officers’ Christmas party. She wears the moringa wood earrings that Sanaa gave her when she got her ears pierced, thinking about her hope that Sanaa will reconcile with her once she gets to know Spock. She still hasn’t called, and Nyota is leaving tomorrow afternoon for Nairobi.

She strokes the smooth, dark wood twisted in a helix through her earlobe. Nyota needs to put on her lipstick and comm Spock that she’ll meet him at his apartment, but she spends a moment stimming, thinking about her final grades that will be released in the next couple days. The only one she’s really worried about is xenobio. There’s a chance she might have gotten an A minus. Nyota has to take Interstellar Navigation next semester, though, and she’s heard rumors of how brutal that can be. Xenobio was at least fun and difficult. Interstellar Nav might be boring and difficult.

Nyota flips open her comm and tucks it between her shoulder and her cheek while she puts on her shoes. Kirk is watching, probably trying to find out who her boyfriend is.

“Hey,” she says when Spock picks up.

“Nyota, we are going to be in each other’s presence all evening. Is there an urgent matter that needs attending to?”

“No, I just wanted to arrive at the party together. You know.” Nyota eyes Kirk right back.

Kirk mouths, “I’d like to meet my competition,” before reaching for his shirt on the floor. He tugs it on a little too slowly, probably hoping Nyota is watching. She isn’t.

“I am aware of the human custom of arriving at an event together. Is there anything else you require?’

“Yes,” Nyota replies simply. “Where am I meeting you?”

“I am currently standing outside of your dormitory,” Spock says. “I have been waiting 1.4 minutes for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Haste is unnecessary. I arrived 4.56 minutes earlier than we had agreed upon.”

Nyota’s face softens slightly. “Okay, see you in a few.”

Spock terminates the call, probably deciding farewells are unneeded due to their imminent reunion in such a small period of time, she decides, placing her comm inside her clutch. Nyota touches her hair, making sure no stray hairs have escaped from her updo. She takes a deep breath, choosing to focus on the rhythm of her inhalation for a brief moment.

Kirk is still watching her when she opens her eyes.

“What?” she snaps.

“You look really nice, Uhura,” he says genuinely. “Nice enough to get that first name?”

“Physical appearance does not correlate with my patience, James Tiberius Kirk,” Nyota replies as she grabs her wrap. “If you’re hanging around over winter break, that’s fine. If you go through my stuff, I will personally strangle you with that smirk still on your face. Now, I’m going to go have a nice evening with my _boyfriend_.”

“You do that!” Kirk yells at her back. “Let me know if he’s down to let me join you two at any point!”

Gaila chimes in, “Have fun! Get him drunk and go wild!”

Nyota rolls her eyes as the door hisses shut behind her.

Spock doesn’t move towards her when she appears, an expression she can only categorize as his bedroom eyes crossing his face so briefly she almost misses it.

She twirls so he can get the full effect and smiles up at him. “I feel like a princess.”

“I believe if you are using terms of royalty to call yourself, you would be better fitted to the word queen,” Spock says, his hands behind his back.

He’s wearing his dress uniform, and Nyota can’t be mad when he looks that good in black. She wants to jump him, if she’s completely honest, and Spock appears to be having similar thoughts, because his hand rises to stroke her cheek, a move he never makes when they are so exposed.

“We are expected shortly,” he says, his voice sounding slightly strained. He drops his hand.

“Yes,” Nyota says, and if it’s a little breathless it’s because she wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

They do not touch while they walk. They mutually agree without communication that doing so will mean they do not attend the party. Spock is obligated to appear. That much is important. If they stare at each other more than usual while they walk, that is not something either of them remark on.

Captain Pike swoops down on them the moment they walk through the door together, Nyota’s hand resting on Spock’s elbow.

“Spock, Uhura! So glad you came!” The captain’s smile is huge as he looks from Nyota to Spock with an odd expression on his face. “You two look good together.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nyota says. She does not duck her head when she accepts Pike’s compliment. She knows her beauty, and she is just as aware of Spock’s own.

Commander Ling approaches them with a glass of champagne in her hand. “Well, if it isn’t the two linguistics lovebirds. Uhura. Commander Spock.”

Nyota wishes Ling would stop calling them lovebirds. She resolves to bet a case of Altairian brandy against the commander’s guess. Gaila will appreciate the gift.

“Commander Ling,” she forces herself to say as politely as she can. “How are you doing, sir?”

“I’m doing just fine now that the semester’s over, Uhura. You’re being pretty silent, Mr. Spock. What’s going on in that massive brain of yours?”

Spock’s eyes flicker with irritation briefly. “I was unaware that the pleasantries exchanged required my input, Commander Ling.”

“Spock, we worked together for a couple years. Call me Ruth.” Then, to Nyota. “You put up with this? I don’t think I could handle a Vulcan.”

“He’s half-Vulcan, and you don’t have to handle him at all, sir,” Nyota says tightly. She was not expecting this casual speciesism from Ling, but she supposes it’s practice for her family. “And yes, I put up with this. Spock was correct in saying he didn’t have anything to contribute to the conversation, sir.”

Pike and Ling look at her for a few seconds, their mouths slightly open. Pike shuts his and says laughingly, “I think you ought to back off, Ling. Uhura doesn’t appreciate her turf being stepped on. Come on, Spock, I’d like to introduce you to Captain Hvui.”

Spock detaches Nyota’s arm from his gently, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “Defending me was unnecessary. Such statements are common.”

There’s a twist to his words, though, and Nyota knows he’s saying thank you. His breath is hot on her ear, and he lingers a second longer than he should. The brush of air is enough to make her shiver and let out a sigh. That uniform really ought to be illegal.

He walks after Captain Pike and Nyota is left alone with Commander Ling. She reaches to touch an earring in an attempt to soothe herself in a room full of people she doesn’t really know. Ling’s eyes follow her fingers.

“Those are beautiful earrings. Where did you get them?”

“My older sister bought them for me the day I got my ears pierced. They’re from a shop in the mall in Nairobi. I have no clue if that place is even still there. I’ll probably get dragged to the mall in a couple days, though, if you want me to check.” Nyota has no idea why she just said that, why she’s being friendly with Ling, who has repeatedly gotten on her nerves.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that, Uhura. I just thought they were pretty. Do you want something to drink?”

“Um,” Nyota says, thinking. She doesn’t really want to be hungover tomorrow on the shuttle home, but she takes a moment to think about the fact she’s never been tipsy around Spock. That might be fun, especially with how hot he looks tonight. “Yeah. I would, actually.”

Ling weaves through the crowd to the bar in the corner and Nyota follows, trying not to touch anyone. She sips her wine and searches for familiar faces. Spock and Pike are off in one corner, talking to an Andorian who must be Captain Hvui. She finally lights on Lieutenant Commander Kance, who taught her xenobiology course this semester.

“Excuse me,” Nyota says to Ling, and sails off into the crowd.

“Lieutenant Commander Kance,” she says.

He turns to see who is seeking his attention, his face lighting up with recognition. “Cadet Uhura, what a surprise. I didn’t know they invited cadets to these things.”

Nyota ducks her head. “They don’t, sir. I’m here as Commander Spock’s date.”

Kance’s left eyebrow rises to impossible heights. “That pointy-eared bastard _dates_?”

She should be used to the comments by now, really. She takes a sip of her wine to curb the acid about to pour off her tongue. “Sir, the linguistics department has a betting pool on when we started dating. It’s not really news. I had wondered, though, if I might learn anything about my final grade.”

Kance laughs. “It’s news to me. Well, I hope you’re at least profiting off the pot if you’re aware of it.”

“I’m not stupid, sir. Of course I am. However, I would like to learn my grade, if that’s at all possible,” Nyota prompts.

“Ah yes. I haven’t gotten to everyone’s papers yet, but I have graded yours. A fascinating subject, really.” Kance eyes her for a minute before answering her. “You’ve got a solid A, Uhura.”

Nyota suppresses her urge to frown. It must have been the labs that dragged her grade down slightly. McCoy sometimes insisted on scribbling answers in frustration and she didn’t always double check his work. He was good at what he did, but he was always mumbling about how weird alien biology was and how it made no sense.

“Thank you, sir.”

Spock appears by her elbow then, and she knows it’s him before she even turns to look.

“Evening, Commander Spock,” Kance says. “Uhura was just telling me she’s here as your date.”

“That is correct,” Spock replies, standing close enough to Uhura that it cannot be mistaken for anything other than what it is. “I fail to see the fascination surrounding my relationship with Cadet Uhura.”

“You just don’t strike people as the dating type,” Kance says, and taps the rim of his glass with his fingernail. “I mean, Uhura is pretty dedicated to her work, too, from what I’ve seen.”

Nyota really doesn’t feel like explaining her relationship to every pair of curious ears, but it’s Spock who shuts Kance down.

“I was unaware our private relationship deserved repeated scrutiny by curious observers.”

Kance shifts his weight from leg to leg, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, sir, I just-” He shrugs. “It’s a little weird.”

Nyota drains her glass. She needs more alcohol to make it through another forty minutes of this.

Spock keeps getting dragged off by Captain Pike to make social connections, so Nyota is left to fend for herself in strange waters. Commander Kjin appears at the bar just as she’s setting down her third glass of wine.

“Commander Kjin,” she exclaims in relief. Someone to talk syntax with. “How are you?”

“Uhura!” The Cardassian greets her with a smile. “Here with Commander Spock?”

“Yes,” Nyota says. “But Captain Pike keeps dragging him off to meet people.”

Kjin nods, and then asks Nyota if she’s read the latest issue of _Intergalactic Syntax._ She has, of course, and they discuss their favorite articles for a couple minutes before the commander is called off by her partner to dance. Nyota sits and stares at the last little bit of wine in her glass, knowing she shouldn’t have anymore or she’s going to have to make the shuttle flight tomorrow hungover. She leaves her glass on the bar and drifts to the edge of the wall, watching the staff members and their partners dance and mingle.

The alcohol fizzing through her veins does a little to soothe the familiar feeling of being on the outside looking in. Every time she goes to something like this she remembers how little she feels like she belongs. Nyota props herself against the wall and just watches her instructors laugh and dance like they do belong. She aches a little remembering how she wished so often to be invited to parties as a child. They’re really not all she imagined them to be.

She’s so spaced out that it takes her a moment to realize that Spock is standing a foot away from her. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he too is watching the crowd. Nyota sidles a little closer and places her hand on his arm.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Can we go now?”

Spock nods. “Captain Pike informed me I was free to ‘have a good time with my girlfriend.’ Are you well?”

“I’m kind of drunk,” Nyota replies, her fingers crawling up Spock’s chest. “I’m really done with people right now, and you look super hot in black. I think there’s a good idea in here somewhere.”

Spock’s hand reaches up to grab hers. “You are intoxicated.”

She reaches up with her other hand to stroke his cheek. “C’mon, Spock. Have fun with me. Let’s get out of here.”

Spock looks around for a moment, but no one is really watching them. He releases his careful grip of her hand.

“That appears to be a wise course of action.”

They leave, Spock’s hand hovering at the small of her back to steady her slightly swaying walk. Pike catches Nyota’s eye and smiles at her as they reach the door. He shouts something, but it’s lost in the music.

Nyota is on Spock the moment he shuts his door behind them, her hands running down his back to grip his ass.

“That uniform ought to be illegal,” she says breathlessly, pulling his head down to her mouth.

“Your attire is distracting as well,” Spock replies, meeting her kiss.

And then her laughter is in his mind, racing through his neural pathways. Nyota loves it when he tries to talk dirty to her. Her level of intoxication is high enough that she giggles into his tongue, but she is insistent as her hands drag his hips closer to hers. The shoes she is wearing elevate her enough that she can actually get some leverage, and she uses this fact to her advantage.

“Spock,” she says as he hitches up her skirt. His hand pauses on her thigh.

“Nyota,” he replies, his head pulling back from hers slightly.

“I want you to fuck me in that uniform.”

Spock’s hand tightens around her leg and his breath hitches. “That is an illogical request, Nyota.”

“Will it be more logical if I call you Commander Spock?”

“Yes,” he says, and his hands are pulling her underwear down before she can take a breath in.

Nyota doesn’t even think about the fact that they’re doing it right next to Spock’s door, in his quarters, where his neighbors are also instructors, until she hears voices too close to her ear. Spock has more sensitive hearing than her. He has to have heard them too, but he shows no signs of stopping.

She reaches for him inside her mind, asks him if they should move to where they can’t be heard. The people outside are laughing, and _fuck_ that’s Lieutenant Morrisey’s voice. Nyota can’t identify the other two people, but one of them sounds male. Spock lifts her hips slightly and she gasps a little too loudly.

“Someone’s having fun,” Morrisey says, and everyone laughs.

Spock grasps the tendril of Nyota’s worry and encases it in a layer of calm. He doesn’t want to move somewhere more private. He _likes_ knowing how little space there is between their intimacy and the outside world. Nyota’s fingers grip the crisp fabric of his uniform as she processes this information.

“I didn’t know you were so kinky, Commander,” she says in a low voice. It kind of makes sense, in a weird way. Vulcans and their constrained way of thinking have to let it out somehow.

She has to bite her lip so hard she draws blood when she comes, listening to Spock’s uneven breathing and the others talking outside about their holiday plans. It’s only a moment before Spock tumbles after her, her body sliding down the wall slightly as he loses control.

Nyota’s body is slick with sweat and her gown likely wrinkled beyond repair, but it’s been awhile since she and Spock did anything fun like this, so she can’t complain too much. Spock kisses her tenderly, exploring her thoughts carefully to make sure she’s alright. She sends him how beautiful he looks and assures him that she’s fine.

Spock’s mouth has her lipstick smeared all over it, and she represses a laugh when they stand on shaky legs to gather themselves. He picks up her underwear from the floor and hands it to her before he tugs his pants up from around his ankles. The way he manages to still look so dignified after sex never ceases to amaze Nyota.

“I love you,” she says, taking her underwear from his hand.

“You inform me of this often,” he replies, and kisses her forehead. “You require hydration.”

Spock makes her drink three glasses of water while she sits, still panty-less, on his couch. He makes sure she pees before bed, always insistent that she does so for excellent urinary tract health, because it is logical to think of these things. He even pulls the covers up over her, neatening them just right as she settles her blanket beneath her cheek. Nyota smiles up at him sleepily.

“Have a nice meditation time, Spock. See you at 0700.”

Spock nods. He allows his fingertips to rest briefly on her cheek before he goes into his study to meditate.

Meditation serves a different purpose now that Nyota is in his life. He finds himself more open to emotion, more willing to allow himself small disruptions in his routine. Nyota’s affection for him is perhaps only rivalled by his illogical desire for her wellbeing. Spock has found himself choosing some aspect of her as his focus point for meditation lately. The least distracting one is the sound of her breath while she is studying, so he recalls this sound and allows his breathing to slow and his mind to empty except for this small noise.

He joins Nyota in bed an hour later, sliding in carefully so as not to disturb to her. She still shifts, her body turning towards his warmth in her sleep. Spock thinks about their journey tomorrow, his duffel already packed and waiting by his dresser. Nyota’s initiation of intimacy was slightly desperate tonight, likely believing they would be unable have sex for the entirety of their stay with her parents. An illogical belief, but a human one, nonetheless. Spock does not require intimacy with the same urgency as Nyota often does, but he finds this aspect of their relationship to be the most human part.

Nyota had asked him, the night he revealed the depths of his feelings for her, if he had desired T’Pring. He had answered truthfully, deeming it ill-advised to lie. Spock had not told her that desire was the only real connection that existed between him and his formerly betrothed. They had met only to fulfill their needs, hands tangling in robes in the heat of the Vulcan sun.

T’Pring had never seen him as her equal in anything except their joining. She had not ridiculed him like his peers had for his heritage, but she remained silent and closed off, never initiating contact through their bond. She had let her control slip once when he was inside her, and he had seen her disapproval for him made clear even as her hips writhed beneath his.

Spock had applied to Starfleet the next week. He was not cruel; he would not keep T’Pring bound to him against her will.

He had stood at her bonding ceremony to Stonn, his face neutral and his hands loose at his sides. His mother had tried to offer him comfort that he had assured her he had not needed, and his father’s disapproval had grown. Sarek has not spoken to his son outside of that dinner since Spock’s acceptance to Starfleet.

Spock turns his head to look at Nyota. Her lips are parted slightly, her eyelashes fanned against her cheek. He hopes that her father will have more grace for him than his own.

⋘⋙

Nyota opens her eyes to an empty bed and a closed bathroom door. From the sound of things, Spock has already gone on his run and is taking his shower. She groans at the daylight streaming in through his window as it hits her sensitive eyes. Nyota needs to get a hypo and go on her own run before breakfast. Her gown is laid neatly over the chair in Spock’s study, and she stares at it blankly.

She’s going to have to walk of shame this thing. She didn’t even think about it last night when she went to sleep, but all the clothes she has are back in her dorm room. The sonic shuts off, and Nyota is still standing there in her bra and last night’s underwear when Spock comes in.

“I don’t have any clothes besides my gown,” Nyota says, not turning around. “And I need to go back to my room so I can get my workout clothes and a hypo and go on my run.”

“You would view it as an embarrassment to wear that gown across campus,” Spock says smoothly.

“It’s just weird, okay?”

“I am in possession of clothing.”

Nyota laughs. “You’re not serious. I’m super tiny, and you’re a tall Vulcan. That’s not happening.”

She stands in front of his bathroom mirror a few minutes later in one of Spock’s tshirts, a pair of his sweatpants rolled up three times pooling around his ankles.

“I look like I’m drowning,” Nyota says. “I think my gown might be better, honestly.”

“If that is what you prefer,” Spock replies.

Nyota practically runs across campus, her head pounding as the yellow of her gown flies behind her. She opts to go barefoot and hold her heels in her hand for faster movement. She actually manages to avoid anyone until she bumps into McCoy in the hallway.

“McCoy,” she says, her hand clenching tighter around the straps of Gaila’s heels. “Good morning.”

He gives her a long look. “I don’t want to know, Uhura,” he says exasperatedly. “It’s morning, and I need to be in the clinic in ten minutes.” McCoy pushes past her and gets in the turbolift, muttering something about women.

Kirk is asleep, his limbs intertwined with Gaila’s. His ass sticks out of the covers slightly, and Nyota rolls her eyes as she carefully sets her borrowed heels on Gaila’s side of the room. She dresses quietly in the bathroom and slips out to run.

Nyota smiles at McCoy when he happens to be the one administering her hypo.

“Hello again,” she says.

He grunts and jabs the hypo into her neck. “Drink more water,” McCoy says, looking her over.

Nyota doesn’t say that she did drink a lot of water, but the high temperature of Spock’s apartment probably cancelled that out.

“Thanks, McCoy. Have a good Christmas!” She hops off the table and his halfway out the door before he says quietly, “You too, Uhura.”

Nyota takes a shorter run than normal, but Kirk is still there when she returns. He pounds on the door just as she turns the sonic off.

“I need to take a piss,” he says sleepily.

“Your room is just down the hall,” she calls back. “I’m getting dressed.”

Nyota pulls her bra straps up over her shoulders and slides into her blue skirt. Kirk is silent until her shirt is halfway over her head.

“Done yet, Uhura?”

“No.” She takes an extra minute to straighten the seams before finally pulling the door open. Kirk is completely naked.

“God,” Nyota says, shielding her eyes. “Put some clothes on.” She inches outside the door and to one side. “You’re disgusting.”

Gaila watches her with an amused expression on her face as Kirk slips into the bathroom.

“Minimal nudity extends to your guests, Gaila. Follow the rules.” Nyota shakes a finger at her roommate as she gathers her workout clothes to take down to the washing machines. “I’m gone at ten hundred hours.” She lowers her voice. “I really need to see what happens when Spock is drunk. I bet there’s something that will work. I know he doesn’t do alcohol, but I’m ninety-eight percent sure Vulcans get frisky with some substance, even if it’s in the error of their youth.”

Gaila raises her eyebrows. “You got drunk last night and had a good time, hmm?”

Nyota nods and walks towards the door. “A really, really good time. I mean, the party was okay, but Spock was better.”

“I can smell it on you,” Gaila says slyly. “I can’t believe you didn’t have sex with him sooner.”

“None of your business, Gaila,” Nyota yells as the door shuts behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one really long chapter that I had to split into two. Sorry folks, you have to wait until Sunday to find out what happens at Christmas.
> 
> I'm taking a summer class and it started this week, so I'm not sure about the actual timeline of the first sequel being done/published. I'm going to try my best to get it out a week from Sunday, but I can't make any promises. Doing a semester's worth of material in six weeks is a little brutal.
> 
> Shoutout to LieutenantSaavik, the best beta and pal anyone could ask for!! Shoutout to all of you that leave me comments and kudos!! I really appreciate it!!


	13. and that made her feel at home

Spock meditates with her on the shuttle home, his fingers touching hers in the hidden space between their thighs. Her anxiety is threatening to eat her alive at the beginning of the flight, but by the time the shuttle lands in Nairobi, she can breathe alright.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and stands close to him in the airport while they wait for their luggage to be unloaded. Passers by give them a few odd looks, and one old lady whispers “Filth” as she walks by, but Nyota holds her head high.

Kibwe is waiting at the entrance to the Nairobi shuttleport, his arms crossed in front of him. Spock takes Nyota’s Starfleet duffel in his other hand and nods at her. She’s running before she knows it, flying into her father’s arms.

“Baba,” she says, her words muffled in his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nyota.” Kibwe’s voice is thick with tears.

Nyota straightens and pulls away after a minute. She looks at Spock, who is hanging back, posture stiff and a neutral expression on his face.

“Baba, this is Spock,” she says. “Spock, this is my father, Kibwe.”

Kibwe raises his hand in an awkward approximation of the  _ ta’al _ .

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” he says.

Spock’s right eyebrow rises briefly in surprise before he returns the salute. “Greetings, Kibwe.”

Nyota feels a swell of pride rise in her, knowing that Baba did a little research and least and didn't try to shake Spock’s hand. She steps back and stands by Spock, her hand intertwining with his.

“Are Sanaa and Rebecca going to be there?” She asks, squeezing Spock’s hand a little tightly.

Kibwe looks at Spock, visibly unnerved by his stiff posture and lack of emotion. His eyes dart to his daughter’s hand where it meets Spock’s, then back to Nyota’s face.

“Yes. Sanaa didn't call you?”

“We haven't spoken in months, Baba.” Nyota is not going to cry; not here.

Spock sends her something to soothe her: the way she looked when he saw her for the first time in months at the end of the summer, how beautiful she was to him in the moonlight.

Nyota closes her eyes and rests in this knowledge for a minute before Kibwe coughs. Her eyes flutter open, and she realizes she looks like an idiot, holding her boyfriend’s hand with her eyes closed while her father watches.

“Sorry, Baba. It's okay.”

Kibwe nods, knowing it isn't, hoping that Sanaa will calm down a little once she actually meets Spock.

Nyota sits in the backseat with Spock and tells her father about the classes she took this year. Spock is silent, his hand reaching across the space between them to touch her fingers every so often. Nyota steels herself when they arrive, forces every ounce of her hurt deep down inside of her.

Everyone is crowded in the kitchen when they walk in, Marjani and Sanaa laughing about something while Eshe and Gabriel join in. Rebecca is prying something out of Earl’s mouth in the corner. 

The laughter stops when Kibwe says, “We’re back.”

Every eye in the room turns to look at Spock, Nyota standing in front of his tall frame. She stares right back at Sanaa, who isn't saying a word.

“This is Spock,” Nyota says, her mouth dry.

“We can see that,” Sanaa says, practically spitting the words out.

Nyota looks at Rebecca, who has a sympathetic look on her face. Earl is so big, she wants to cry. She can't, though, not while they have to get through this.

“I'm Marjani.” Nyota’s mother plasters a smile on her face and steps forward, offering her hand. Spock looks at it for a long moment before she drops it.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you Vulcans don't do touching.”

“It is not that we do not touch. It is simply viewed as an intimate act,” Spock says, his tone devoid of even the tiniest hint of emotion.

He’s being distant, Nyota realizes. Spock has seen everything her mother has done, and catalogued it carefully. He doesn't appreciate her mistreatment of Nyota. She smiles a little to herself at her realization.

Eshe joins her mother. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Spock. I'm Eshe, and this is my husband Gabriel.” She raises her hand in salute, Gabriel mimicking the action.

Spock inclines his head. “Nyota has told me about you.” 

There's an unmistakable difference in his voice when he addresses Eshe, at least to Nyota. She's not sure if the others catch the slight release of tension in his vowels that she knows so well.

Rebecca smiles at them. “I'm Rebecca, Sanaa’s wife, and this is our son, Earl.”

It's unexpected, but a clear expression of relief crosses Nyota’s face. 

“Hello,” Spock says. It's maybe the fourth time she's heard that word in Spock’s mouth, and Nyota can't suppress her giggle. 

Sanaa has been silent all this time, lingering against the sink. She finally speaks.

“I'm sorry, Nyota. I tried. I can't do this. It's just- it's so wrong. I can't,” she says again, and pushes past them all. The door clinks behind her.

Kibwe shrugs, embarrassed. “I apologize for my daughter. She promised to be civil at the very least.”

“You cannot be held responsible for the illogical behavior of your daughter,” Spock says. “Her inability to see past her prejudice is no one’s fault but her own.”

Marjani smiles tightly. “Why don't you show Spock your room, Nyota? We've put a larger bed in there, but we haven't touched your posters.”

Nyota is relieved. Anything to get out of the tension of this moment, to take her mind off of Sanaa storming out. She leads Spock up the stairs and stops outside her door.

Spock nearly runs into her back. Instead, though the movement of the duffles in his hands bump against her legs. Nyota keys in the code to her room. The door slides open and she steps inside, a little unsure of what to say.

Her mother was right. There’s a larger bed against the wall, but the dim light that streams through her curtains causes the holoprint posters to shimmer in a familiar way.

“Lights,” Nyota says. Her voice seems hoarse.

Spock blinks when the lights flicker on. He turns, their luggage still in his hands, cataloguing the room. Nyota tugs on the strap of her duffel once he has completed his small pirouette. 

“You don’t have to hold onto my duffel for forever, you know.”

He sets their luggage down on the bed, straightening with precision. “I am aware, Nyota. I did not feel it was necessary to do so immediately, however.”

He steps closer to the holoprint by the door, the one with curling Vulcan script cascading down it, advertising the Vulcan Science Academy. 

“You never informed me you had an interest in the Vulcan Science Academy,” he says, and turns to look at Nyota.

“I considered it briefly when I applied for undergrad,” she says. “But I had that poster for two years before. I’ve always been into languages, even though I didn’t actually get around to learning Vulcan until the summer before I went to LPU, but I told you that already. Most of these posters have been here since I was seven.”

Spock nods. “Fascinating.”

“What? Me or the posters?” Nyota plops onto the bed, their duffels bouncing slightly as her weight settles.

“I was referring to your interest in languages from such a young age. I have not met many seven year-old humans who have been so devoted to something many of their kind view as difficult.”

His eyes bore into Nyota, the intensity making her uncomfortable. “I know I’m different,” she says, looking away. “I think the posters are kind of stupid now.”

Spock cocks his head. “It is illogical to be embarrassed of your talent. Am I correct in assuming these feelings of inadequacy have been brought up due to your mother’s presence?”

Sometimes, Nyota really hates how spot on Spock is. He can read her so well it irritates her. She fumbles for his hand and tugs him down next to her. 

“Yes. She’s just always made me feel so- small and unwelcome in my interests. You don’t think my posters are stupid, do you?”

“No,” Spock says emphatically. Then, “We may invoke gossip on the part of your parents if we linger.”

Nyota shakes her head. “Sanaa believes you’re incapable of fulfilling my sexual needs, and I don’t think my parents want to think about my sex life.” 

She falls silent, thinking about Sanaa. The hurt is fresh now, seeing her sister, facing her rejection. Spock kisses her forehead.

“I can only offer what comfort I know,” he says.

“I know, Spock. I’m not expecting anything else from you.” Spock appreciates that, she knows. 

“We really should go downstairs,” Nyota says, leaning into his chest.

It is another two minutes and thirty-seven seconds before they leave her room.

⋘⋙

Spock stares at the food in front of him. He does not want to be rude, but the only utensil provided appears to be a slice of bread. Nyota eats a third of her food before she realizes Spock hasn’t moved. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be rude, but no utensils have been provided for him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Spock. I’ll get you a fork.”

She gets up and goes into the kitchen to get a fork, and when she returns, everyone is looking at her.

“Vulcans don’t use their hands to eat. It’s rude for them,” Nyota explains, sitting down next Spock again. 

Marjani laughs a little, while Eshe nods knowingly. “It’s basically like putting your mouth straight on your food and licking your plate for them.”

“A suitable comparison,” Spock says.

He starts eating, careful to keep his elbow from brushing against Rebecca, who sits next to him. Nyota reaches under the table for his right hand that still rests on this thigh. Spock pauses at her touch, his fork resting on his plate.

_ Is it alright? Do you need something else? We can go out and get some food if you need. _

Spock releases his grip on his fork, his eyes flitting to meet hers.  _ It is satisfactory. _

Neither of them notice the attention of the rest of the people at the table. Nyota withdraws her hand from his, content to let their thighs touching be the only contact between them. She asks him to pass the salt once, purposefully doing it in Swahili. Spock passes it to her, to the surprise of her parents. 

It was a calculated movement on Nyota’s part, to let everyone know they can’t talk about Spock in Swahili and expect their conversation to be private. Spock does not need her to be so protective, but he admits to himself that it is not unpleasant to be defended.

Gabriel talks about his work with Rebecca, and Spock listens, interjecting into the conversation when his meal is finished. He isn’t at ease, not like Nyota knows him, but he seems to have let go of his most formal tone as the evening progresses. She is content to watch him engage, study her family’s reaction to this alien in their midst.

Spock’s lack of tonality throws her family members off kilter slightly. Nyota knows him well enough to decode his microexpressions, but she forgets that her mother cannot see the slight tilt of his mouth when he says, “I do not understand what you mean by a hop, skip, and a jump. None of those actions are measures of distance utilized by any Federation language. If you would clarify.”

Nyota laughs, knowing he’s making a joke, but her mother’s mouth tightens. “I meant to say that Gabriel works really close to our house, that’s all.”

She shouldn’t have laughed, really, but the stress of today and the empty chair that Sanaa is not sitting in have hit her, and she can’t stop. Her laughter reaches hysterical heights before finally petering off.

Eshe gives her a concerned look. “Are you alright, Nyota?”

She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly pricking with tears. “It’s been a really long day,” she says, a little too quietly.

Spock’s hand finds her knee under the table, his thumb moving in soft circles against the fabric of her skirt.

“I need to go to bed. The time difference and travel and-” she pauses, looking at Rebecca. “-everything,” she finishes, “have gotten to me.”

“ _ Ra tor du bolaya? _ What do you need?” Spock asks her in a low voice.

“ _ Bolaya yuk. Dungi du hau na' wuh lirt’k? _ I need sleep. Will you join me for a minute?” Nyota knows her accent is heavy for her, her tiredness seeping into her words.

“ _ Ish-veh nam-tor ra du bolaya, Nyota. _ It is what you need.” He rises from his chair, careful to scoot it in until just before the edge of the table.

Nyota stands, her limbs feeling shaky and not quite her own. It’s been awhile since she’s had a meltdown like this, and it’s her first with Spock here. Her mother’s eyes are on Spock as he touches Nyota’s hand gently, engulfing it in his own. He leads her up the stairs, helps her undress, and sits with her until she falls asleep. It is only two point seven minutes before her breathing evens and her mouth parts slightly.

Spock watches her for a moment before rejoining her family downstairs. It is logical to inform Nyota’s family of her physical condition, but he finds himself reluctant to leave her. It is not the first time she has been so vulnerable, but it is the first time he has witnessed one of her meltdowns. He feels protective of her, especially in this tense environment.

They’re all talking in the living room when he comes down the stairs. Spock waits as they fall silent.

“Nyota is asleep, and will likely remain so until the morning,” he says, his tone even.

“Thank you,” Kibwe says suddenly. “For taking care of her.”

Spock inclines his head slightly. “Nyota is quite capable of caring for herself the majority of the time. I do not believe it is illogical to offer help or for her to accept it.”

Eshe is studying his face, and she smiles a little. “What did you say to her in Vulcan?”

“If I had wished our conversation to be public, I would have spoken in Standard,” Spock says. 

Eshe fixes him with a long look. “Sanaa really fucked her over about you. I want to make sure Nyota chose right. She’s so brilliant and amazing. She deserves the best, and if you are anything but, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Spock blinks, bringing his hands behind his back. “I am aware of Nyota’s many talents, as well as her intelligence. However, it is impossible to judge my status as ‘the best’ when there is no comparison, or as I believe you imply, the sample population is too large and varied to get untainted data.”

Eshe doesn’t reply for a second. “God, do you talk like this all the time?”

“I am not inclined to speak like anyone except myself.”

Kibwe butts into the conversation. “You’re a teacher, right? How did you and Nyota meet?”

It seems Nyota’s family requires him to answer the same questions as his parents expected Nyota to answer.

“I first encountered Nyota when I administered the xenolinguistics entrance exam last summer. Our first official meeting, however, was when I taught the section of Interspecies Ethics she attended a week later.”

Marjani chimes in. “When did you actually start- when did you get together?”

“At the termination of the spring semester of this year.” It’s imprecise and not entirely accurate, but Spock feels their relationship is allowed this privacy.

“When did she tell you she was autistic?” Rebecca asks, holding a sleeping Earl. 

Spock turns his gaze to the petite woman. “Almost immediately after Nyota learned I returned her feelings. She wanted me to understand that she was not like other humans.”

The questions fly thick and fast, a measuring of Spock’s character. It is half an hour later that Marjani looks at him.

“Do you love Nyota? Are you capable of that?” 

It’s not meant to be rude, Spock is aware. These comments are never meant to cause offense. Marjani genuinely does not believe that he is capable of the depths of human affection.

“Mom, it’s obvious he does. Did you see the way he looked at her when he took her upstairs?” Eshe asks, leaning against her husband.

“I want to know if you love my daughter,” Marjani says, a little fiercely. “I have tried to love her as best as I know how, but it has never been right for her. I want to know that you are right for her. Tell me you love her.”

Kibwe has remained silent this entire time, but his gaze is just as expectant as his wife’s. Spock knows that Marjani has not actually tried to understand her daughter, merely projected the understanding she wants to have on Nyota. He also knows that it would be unwise to say this. Nyota and him are expected to stay for another four days. The tensions are already high, and it would not be diplomatic to increase them.

So instead of pointing out Marjani’s faulty logic, he says, “I do.”

Marjani relaxes slightly. “Good.”

Rebecca leaves with Earl a few minutes later, Eshe and Gabriel following her into the night. Kibwe apologizes again for Sanaa’s behavior, nodding when Spock says it is unnecessary. 

“I still need to say it.”

Spock climbs the stairs and enters Nyota’s room before he allows himself to relax. The passing of time is continuous, he knows, but it still feels as if this day has stretched longer than it should have. He folds his clothes neatly and turns back the covers. Nyota shifts towards him like she always does, but this time, she wakes slightly.

“C’mere, Spock,” she says sleepily, reaching out her arms.

He slides closer until she rests her head on his chest. “It’s weird not to hear your heartbeat,” she says in Swahili. “But I like your weird,” she says in Standard.

Spock does not fall asleep for another hour.

⋘⋙

Sanaa is there in the morning, sticking close to Rebecca. Rebecca must have said something, because she’s there, but she does not say another word besides “Good morning” to Nyota. She does not say anything to Spock.

Gabriel and Spock seem to hit it off somehow. Nyota isn’t even sure what they talk about, but they end up walking outside a lot to chat. Marjani drills her on her classes, asks her about every aspect of her life. She also asks questions about Spock, which Nyota doesn’t really answer. 

“We’ll have to meet his parents,” Marjani says, and Nyota forces a tight smile in response.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mom.”

“Why? You’ve met them, why can’t we?”

“Because they live on Vulcan, Mom. And Spock doesn’t really talk to his dad.”

Spock is listening, she knows, even though he is on the other side of the living room discussing the recent treaty with the Romulans with Kibwe and Eshe. Sanaa is on her padd, pretending she isn’t listening.

“Look, Mom, it’s not a good idea. Just- it isn’t. Trust me.”

⋘⋙

Nyota tries to catch Sanaa when she comes out of the bathroom that afternoon. Sanaa starts when she sees Nyota and makes as if to step around her.

“Sanaa, please,” Nyota says, reaching out to touch her sister’s arm. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Sanaa’s face twists. “It’s just so- so wrong. He’s so  _ alien _ . How can you have human feelings for a person that doesn’t feel? His skin is tinged green, Nyota. He’s got pointy ears and a weird-ass haircut and he talks like he’s reading a dictionary. He sounds like a computer, like a robot,” she hisses. “I don’t know what the hell you see in him. Are humans not good enough for you or something?”

Nyota takes a step backwards. Sanaa is being downright venomous, and it’s more unexpected than she would like to admit. 

“His name,” she says firmly, “is Spock. He’s half-human. I like dictionaries. I like his haircut and his ears. I see a multitude of things in him that you don’t deserve to know if you’re going to judge him like that. Spock  _ loves _ me, even though he doesn’t say it in ways you can understand. Sanaa, you can take that stick up your ass and shove it out your mouth. Just because he’s a private person, just because he’s different than you doesn’t make him less worthy of respect. I can’t believe you’re throwing away our entire relationship because the blood running through my boyfriend’s veins is green and not red. I want my sister back, but I’m not going to sacrifice my happiness for your bigotry.”

Sanaa glares at Nyota. “I don’t think I want to know the way he loves you,” she spits, pushing past Nyota.

Sanaa does not talk to her again. Rebecca apologizes repeatedly for Sanaa, Marjani manages to only make a derogatory comment about Spock’s ears once, and Kibwe remains an observer for the large part.

⋘⋙

Earl doesn’t really remember Nyota, but he likes her nonetheless. He says her name repeatedly and loves to tug on her earrings. Earl reaches for Spock once on Christmas day, while Nyota sits next to him, their knees touching. Sanaa starts forward from her seat, but Rebecca holds her back. Nyota lets Earl crawl into Spock’s lap, curious to see how he will react to her nephew.

Spock’s hands are stiff when he reaches to balance Earl’s small body.

“Your ears are funny,” Earl says, grabbing at the point of Spock’s ear. Spock flinches, the tiniest movement, as Earl’s small brown hand wraps around the tip of his ear.

“I do not find my ears to be humorous,” Spock replies. 

Earl grabs Spock by the cheeks and turns his head to examine his other ear. His hands are more gentle this time as he traces the curve of cartilage. Spock allows him his exploration, watching him intently.

“Are you an alien?” Earl questions, his baby voice devoid of malice. 

Nyota can’t help looking at Sanaa’s face. It is pinched and drawn. 

She looks back at Spock and Earl.

“I am not human,” Spock replies. “I am Vulcan.”

“Oh, okay,” Earl says. “I wanna be a Vulcan.” He wiggles out of Spock’s lap and runs into Sanaa’s arms. “Mama, can I be a Vulcan when I grow up?”

“No, Earl honey,” Sanaa says tightly. “You’re a human, and you can’t change that.”

“I wanna be a Vulcan,” Earl shouts, stamping his foot. “I wanna have pointy ears.”

“You can’t do that, honey. You have round ears like me and Mommy,” Sanaa says, her voice impatient.

Spock has an amused expression on his face, that smile in his eyes that does not reach his mouth. Nyota scoots a little closer to him and allows their hands to touch.

_ It is possible that your sister will see reason through her son _ , Spock says.

_ I know. From the mouth of babes. _ Nyota smiles at him, that brilliant smile that makes him feel the illogical urge to kiss her. He settles for a Vulcan kiss instead, his first two fingers meeting her own.

⋘⋙

Kibwe knows his daughter and Spock speak a language of their own without words. He’s watched them these past few days, noticed every small touch between them. They look at each other sometimes, brown eyes meeting brown, and they are unmistakably saying something to each other. It’s odd to know that they can speak without words, that he cannot even listen to their tongues form alien sounds.

Spock and Nyota converse in Vulcan, too, just a few sentences here and there, the syllables rolling off their tongues in an almost robotic tone. Eshe asks Nyota to teach her how to say a few basic phrases, and Spock tries not to wince at her accent across the room.

Eshe insists Spock and Nyota accompany her and Gabriel to the mall the day after Christmas. Spock goes, if only to keep Gabriel company, and Nyota comes to find herself a pair of heels so she won’t have to borrow from Gaila next time she needs a pair.

Spock watches with an amused expression while Nyota tries on shoe after shoe. His eyebrow has remained quirked since the third pair, but his mouth remains closed.

“You can say it, Spock,” Nyota says, throwing her hands up. “My indecisive ass is having a hard time, and I just want a pair of heels.  _ I’m going to throw curses at these shoes’ mother _ ,” she finishes in Tellarite. Spock doesn’t know Tellarite. It’s just as well.

“I was cursing,” Nyota says in response to his questioning eyebrow. “Fuck these shoes.”

“That would appear to be an unwise course of action,” Spock replies.

He says these things, not for his own enjoyment, but for the smile that tugs at her lips. Spock never made jokes before he met Nyota, a fact that does not escape his memory. If they were alone, she would flap her hands, her whole body shivering with excitement. But they are not. A crowd of humanoids surges past outside the shop, and a salesperson lingers by the register. Eshe is trying on a pair of boots in the next aisle while Gabriel talks about some furniture for their apartment.

Spock has noticed how reserved Nyota becomes when she is in public now that he has the privilege of seeing her so often behind closed doors. Her large movements transform into microscopic ones; her raised voice staying in lower pitches. She speaks less freely and uses more evasive language. But it is her public self that he first was attracted to, so he cannot find himself wishing she behaved differently. After all, if Spock is honest with himself, he allows himself to be more open in private. 

“The twenty-first pair you tried on gave the most shapely enhancement to your calves and suited your skin tone adequately,” Spock says. 

“The green ones?” Nyota shuffles through the maze of boxes around her.

“That is what I said,” Spock replies.

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Nyota says in Ferengi.

Spock nods.    


⋘⋙

The last night they stay, Earl crawls onto Nyota’s lap and asks her to sing. Rebecca probably mentioned to him that Aunt Nyota used to sing to him when he was a baby.

Nyota tries to think of what to sing. It's been ages since she last sang, and her brain is devoid of options.

“Okay,” she says, tucking a curl of Earl’s hair behind his ear. “Do you want to hear my favorite song when I was little?”

Earl looks up at her, his eyes wide. “Yes please,” he whispers.

Nyota starts to sing  _ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star _ in Swahili, her mouth forming the words without thought. She glances up at Spock, who is standing next to Kibwe. Spock has fallen silent, his eyes fixed on her.

She finishes the song and pats Earl on the leg. “Was that a good song?” 

“Thank you, Auntie Nyota,” he replies solemnly.

Spock asks her that night when she's undressing if she’s considered joining the Academy Chorale.

“It is logical to cultivate a natural talent,” he says, watching Nyota’s hands disappear behind her back to undo her bra.

“I don’t have time for something else,” Nyota replies, taking her hair down from her ponytail. Her soft waves curl over her breasts and her eyes flit up to meet Spock’s.

“That is not entirely true.” Spock hand’s reach for her waist, sliding around to meet in the small of her back. He tugs her body towards him. The press of the heat of his skin against hers still makes her sigh after all this time.

“Spock, I spend my free time with you. Are you telling me I should spend less time with you and more time on myself?”

Spock’s eyes focus on the bridge of her nose, the curve of her cheekbone. “I am saying, Nyota, that you should cultivate your talent. I believe you have the capability to do so and still spend time with me.”

Nyota rises on her toes. “I’ll consider it,” she says into his mouth. Spock kisses her back, but she is the one who sits back on her heels. 

“My parents are right next to my room, Spock.”

This is not the first time she has informed Spock of this fact. Nyota has slept next to him in the same bed, but she has repeatedly stated her personal stigma against any physical intimacy under her parents’ roof. They have had longer periods without sex in their relationship since his first initiation of it due to various obligations, but Spock believes that Nyota is so tightly wound from these few days that she would benefit from release. Their morning runs have not alleviated her stress to the degree she pretends.

“Nyota, I am aware that your parents’ bedroom is next to yours. However, I also know that they were still talking in your mother’s study when I followed you upstairs.”

Nyota grabs the hand that is reaching for her ass. She brings it around in front of her and intertwines her fingers with his.

“Spock, what if my parents want to say goodnight to me?”

“They have not come to your room after we have entered it once, Nyota. You are being illogical.”

Spock backs her up until her thighs bump against her bed. “You are tense,” he says, his voice irritatingly even.

“Yeah, I’m tense. My mother still keeps trying to touch me, thinking that we’re bonding now somehow because she’s getting over her xenophobia for my boyfriend. My older sister, my best friend for most of my life, is still not talking to me. I have a headache just thinking about it.”

Her voice rises in pitch, and he can feel her distress through where their hands meet.

“Allow me, then,” Spock says, his hands guiding her to sit down. He kneels in front of her in a smooth movement, places his hands on her hips, and looks up at her. “If you are amenable.”

_ It would be rude to refuse if he’s offering, really, _ Nyota thinks. “Yes,” she says a little breathlessly, slipping into Vuhlkansu. “ _ Sanoi. _ Please.”

She says some other words after that, but what language they’re in doesn’t really matter.

Nyota doesn’t even think about the fact that Spock is still fully clothed until he stands over her loose limbs, his mouth glistening. She can’t quite get her limbs to cooperate properly yet, but she wants to kiss him.

“Spock,” she says, her hands reaching for him. “You’re still dressed.”

“You are,” he replies, his hands coming down on either side of her torso, “as ever, an excellent observer."

Nyota giggles and tugs at his sweater. “Take it off, Spock.”

Spock hovers above her, gazing at her intensely. He is remembering the first time Nyota was naked beneath him, how hesitant she had been with her hands, even though her mind had been sure. He backs off of her, removing his sweater. Spock folds it carefully and sets it on the floor, next to Nyota’s discarded bra and underwear.

Nyota props herself up on her elbows to watch him undress. He is meticulous, as always. There’s still something almost clinical in the the way Spock removes his clothes, but she’s known him for long enough to not mind.

She welcomes him into her arms a little desperately, grateful that Spock insisted she get over her stigma about having sex under her parents’ roof. 

“I love you,” she says, her hands splaying across his back.

Nyota feels the rush of tenderness slide into her mind, that now familiar feeling of seeing her beauty through his eyes. Spock considers it illogical and unnecessary to state what she is already aware of, but he still indulges her in this.

Maybe the only annoying thing about having sex with Spock is that fact that he is insistent Nyota relieve herself afterwards. 

“You’re such a health nut, Spock. It’s not like I’m going to get a UTI if I don’t pee after sex one time.”

She purposefully grabs his old  _ Starfleet Mathletics _ tshirt to wear while she runs to the bathroom down the hall.

“If you’re going to be so insistent about my health, I’m going to appropriate your clothing while I pee.”

“An illogical train of thought, Nyota,” Spock says. His chest is still flushed slightly green and his voice hasn’t returned to to his normal intonation.

He looks so beautiful Nyota wants to crawl right back in bed next to him, skin to skin, and not breathe for the love of him.

“ _ Ri tor tun _ . I don’t care,” she retorts as she steps out of her room. 

Kibwe is coming up the stairs, Marjani a step behind him. Nyota scurries into the bathroom, wishing she’d put her underwear back on. It’s not like she isn’t swimming in Spock’s tshirt; it’s just that she feels so intimate in this moment that she’s afraid her parents will disturb it.

Of course Marjani knocks on the door as Nyota’s washing her hands. Of course.

“Mother,” she says as evenly as she can, trying not to think about how bare her thighs are or what she and Spock just did under her parents’ roof with them so close.

“Are you alright, Nyota? You look a little flushed.” Marjani reaches out with the back of her hand to her daughter’s forehead. 

Nyota catches her mother’s wrist. She is not going to look her mother in the eye and say, “ _ Mom, I just had sex with a Vulcan, of course I’m hot and sweaty. _ ” 

She settles for “I’m fine, mother,” instead.

“I’m sure,” she insists as Marjani’s mouth opens.

“I just don’t want you to get sick right before you go back, honey. That’s no fun at all.”

“Yeah,” Nyota replies, and moves to pass her mother. 

Marjani doesn’t move. “Nyota, I want to know something.”

“Okay.” Nyota wants to be in bed with Spock, their thighs touching while they read articles on their padds.

Marjani’s gaze is too intense to meet, so her daughter looks at the mole on her left cheek.

“Spock told me he loves you. Do you know he loves you?”

Nyota’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She’s not certain what kind of duress her mother put Spock under to get him to talk about his feelings. “Of course I do!”

Now that she’s thinking about it, Spock has never actually said that he loves her out loud. She knows it to be true, as surely as she knows she cannot sleep without her blanket at night, but it’s an odd realization to have when her groin is still slick with the memory of his tongue and she’s wearing his shirt. She doesn't think she needs him to say it, though; not now. She lives with the quiet knowledge of his love every day, rides the endless wave of his small affections back to his arms almost every night. What they have is enough for her.

"Okay, honey. I just wanted to make sure. I just can’t tell what’s happening with that face of his. It’s like the only thing that moves is his eyebrows.”

Marjani finally lets her daughter past her. Nyota steps inside her room, Spock’s bare back visible for a brief moment before the door hisses shut behind her. Marjani pauses before entering the bathroom, the sight of Spock’s skin surprising her. Nyota says something in Vulcan and Spock’s response makes her laugh. Marjani can’t remember the last time she heard Nyota laugh like that, and she knows that whatever reservations she still holds inside herself about Spock cannot stand against her daughter’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not intend to finish where I did, but I ended up just staring at the document for three days before I realized that I was actually done. I wrote this thing in a feverish month, minimum of 2k words a day, with two days of over 5k, all while keeping my grades up. It legitimately felt like I had given birth, I put so much time and energy into writing this. I'm a little sad it's over, but I'm so thankful that my child has been so well received as I've published.
> 
> I could not have survived without my lovely beta, LieutenantSaavik, or you faithful few who left me comments every week <3 I really enjoyed writing this and I enjoyed sharing it with you just as much!!
> 
> The first sequel will be forthcoming in a week to a week and a half (it's currently half finished, but I have some extra free time this week so keep your eyes peeled).


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